CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(IMonograplis) 


ICIMH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


Canadian  Instituta  for  Historical  IWIcroraproductlon.  /  Inatltut  Canadian  da  microraproduction.  historiq 


uas 


i 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  techniques  et  bibllographiques 


Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best  original 
^  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
'  be  bibliographicaliy  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 

images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
lificantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
:ked  below. 

Coloured  covers  / 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  danriaged  / 

Cou*  erture  endommag^e 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Couverture  restaurde  et/ou  pellicul^e 

Cover  title  missing  /  Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps  /  Cartes  g^ographiques  en  couleur 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)  / 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material  / 
Reli^  avep  d'autres  documents 

Only  edition  available  / 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion  atong 
interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serr^e  peut  causer  de 
I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsion  le  long  de  la  marge 
intirieure. 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restorations  may  appear 
within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have  been 
omitted  from  filming  /  II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages 
blanches  ajout^es  lors  d'une  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais,  lorsque  cela  Itait 
possible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  M  film^es. 

Addittonal  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaires: 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire  qu'il  lui  a 
6\6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire qui  sont  peut-6tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibli- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modification  dans  la  m^tho- 
de  normale  de  filmage  sont  indkju^s  ci-dessous. 

j     I  Coloured  pages  /  Pages  de  couleur 

I I  Pages  damaged  /  Pages  endommag§es 


n 


Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
Pages  restaurSes  et/ou  pelliculdes 


0  Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
Pages  d^olor^es,  tachet^es  ou  piqu^es 

I     I  Pages  detached  /  Pages  d6tach6es 

\V\  Showthrough / Transparence 

j     I  Quality  of  print  varies  / 


D 
D 


D 


Quality  in^gale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material  / 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppl^mentaire 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata  slips, 
tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  totalement  ou 
parliellement  obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une 
pelure,  etc.,  ont  6\6  film^es  h  nouveau  de  fa^on  h 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 

Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
discolourations  are  filmed  twice  to  ensure  the  best 
possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant  ayant  des 
colorations  variables  ou  des  decolorations  sont 
film^es  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la  meilleure  image 
possible. 


im  it  fllm«d  It  lh«  rtduclion  ratio  chacktd  b«low  / 
um*nl  tit  filin4  au  Uui  da  reduction  indlqui  el-dtitoui. 


14X 


IBX 


12x 


16k 


20x 


22x 

nn 


k6x 


30x 


24x 


28x 


32x 


The  copy  filmad  h«r«  has  baan  raproducad  thanks 
to  tha  ganarosity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  filmA  fut  raproduit  grica  k  la 
g4n4rosit*  da: 

Bibliotheque  nationale  du  Canada 


Tha  jmagas  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  bast  quality 
possibia  eonsidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacifications. 


Original  capias  in  printad  papar  covars  ara  filmad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  last  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa- 
sion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  eopiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illustratad  impraa- 
aion,  and  anding  on  tha  last  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  imprassion. 


Tha  last  racordad  frama  on  aach  microficha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  -i«»  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  V  (moaning  "END"). 
whichavar  applias. 

Maps,  platas,  charts,  ate.  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  axposura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar,  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bonom,  as  many  framas  as 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrams  illustrsta  tha 
mathod: 


Las  imagas  suivantas  ont  M  raprodultos  avsc  la 
plus  grand  soin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattat*  da  l'axamplaira  film*,  at  an 
conformity  avac  las  conditions  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Laa  axamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  an 
papiar  aat  imprim«a  sont  film«s  an  commancant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  soit  par  la 
darni*ra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration.  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  caa.  Tous  las  autras  axamplairss 
originaux  sont  filmte  an  commanpant  par  la 
pramiAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'imprassion  ou  d'illustration  at  an  tsrminant  par 
la  darni*ra  paga  qui  comporta  una  taila 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  symbolas  suivants  spparattra  sur  la 
darniira  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha,  talon  la 
cas:  la  symbols  -i^>  signifia  "A  SUIVRE".  la 
symbols  ▼  signifia  "FIN". 

Las  cartas,  planchas.  tablaaux.  ate.  pauvant  itra 
filmis  i  daa  taux  da  reduction  diff«rants. 
Lorsqua  la  documant  ast  trap  grand  pour  *tra 
raproduit  an  un  saul  clich«.  il  ast  film*  A  partir 
da  I'angia  supAriaur  gaucha.  da  gaucha  i  droita. 
at  da  haut  an  bas,  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagaa  nAcassaira.  Las  diagrammas  suivants 
illustrant  la  mithoda. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MtCROCOPV    RiSOlUTION   TfST  CHART 

lANSI  ond  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


L"  n2s 


y.    1^5 


12.2 

li 

HUH. 

IMI  1.8 

1.6 


A     APPLIED  IM^GE    Inc 


161-'  East   Uoin   'jlrwt 

Rochester,   N««   York        '    -  ,19       USA 

(716)   482  -  0300  -  PHon, 

(7)6)   28B  -  19B9  -  fo. 


I 


INDUSTRIAL    EVOLUTION 


BY 


CARL  BUCHER 

Pnftsior  of  Political  Economy,  Unitersify   of  Leipeig 


TRAmtATED  FROM  THE  THIRD  GERMAN  EDITION 


BY 


S.    MORLEY   WICKETT,    Ph.D. 
Uciunr  on  Political  Economy  and  Statistics.  University  of  Toronto 


NEW    YORK 

HENRY  HOLT   AND  COMPANY 
190  r 


'J-  •' 


<  1 


57539 


Copyright,  1901, 

BY 
HENRY  HOLT  &  CO. 


Published  Jult  1901. 


flOaCRT    DrtuMMONb,    pf^lNT£-',    NLW    fORfv. 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


The  writings  of  Professor  Bucher,  in  their  German 
dress,  require  no  introduction  to  economists.  His  ad- 
mirable work  The  Population  of  Frankfurt  in  the  Fourteenth 
and  Fifteenth  Centuries,  published  in  1886,  gave  him 
immediate  celebrity  with  economic  historians,  and 
left  him  without  a  rival  in  the  field  of  historical  statis- 
tics. In  his  treatment  of  economic  theory  he  stands 
midway  between  the  "younger  historical  school"  of 
economists  and  the  psychological  Austrians.»  A  full  list 
of  his  writings  need  not  be  given.2  But  I  may  recall 
his  amplified  German  edition  of  Laveleye's  Primitive 
Property,  his  little  volume  The  Insurrections  of  the  Slave 
Labourers,  143-129  b.c,  his  original  and  suggestive 
Labour  and  Rhythm,  discussing  the  relation  between  the 

•  A  few  facts  and  dates  regarding  Professor  BUcher's  career  may  not 
be  uninteresting.  Professor  BUcher  was  born  in  Prussian  Rhineland  in 
.tl:  .  .  ""Pleted  his  undergraduate  studies  at  Bonn  and  G6ttingen 
(1866-69).  His  rapid  rise  in  the  German  scholastic  world  is  evident 
frotn  his  academic  appointments  :  special  lecturer  at  GSttingen  (i86<>- 
72  .  lecturer  at  Dortmund  (1872-73),  at  Frankfurt  Technical  School  (187,- 

S^r   /p  r""?J""^'    ''"■"^'""^  °'  ^'''''^''"  ^'  Dorpat.  Russia 
(I3S2).  of  Political  Economy  and  Finance  at  Basel  (1883-90).  at  Karls- 
ruhe (1890-93).  and  at  Leipsic  (1893  to  present).     From  1878  to  the  close 
of  1880  he  was  Industrial  and  Social  Editor  of  the  Frankfurter  Ztitung 
This  may  be  found  in  the  HandwSrterbuch  d.  Staatswiss 


IV 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


physiology  and  the  psychology  of  labour,  his  investiga- 
tions into  trusts,  and  his  co-editorship  of  Wagner's  Hand- 
book of  Political  Economy  (the  section  Industry  being  in 
his  charge)  as  indicating  the  general  direction  and  scope 
of  his  researches.  The  present  stimulating  volume,  which 
in  the  original  bears  the  title  Die  Entstchiing  der  Volkswift- 
scliaft  (The  Rise  of  National  Economy),  gives  the  author's 
conclusions  on  general  industrial  development.  Some- 
what similar  ground  has  been  worked  over,  among  recent 
economic  ])ul)licatioiis.  alone  by  Professor  Schmoller's 
comprehensive  Crnndrisz  dcr  allgcmcincn  Volksti'irtschafts- 
Ichrc,  Pt.  I.  But  the  method  of  treatment  and  the  results 
of  the  present  work  allow  ii  to  maintain  its  unique  position. 
Chapters  I.  and  II.  outline  the  prominent  features  of 
primitive  economic  life  in  the  tropical  zone.  These  real- 
istic accounts  of  the  "  pre-economic  stage  of  industrial  evo- 
lution," preceding  the  dawn  of  civilization,  ably  em- 
phasize the  kinship  of  economics  and  ethnology.  In  chap- 
ter III.  he  presents  brilliantly  and  concisely  the  suggestive 
series  of  economic  developmental  stages  of  household, 
town  and  national  economy,  based  on  the  industrial  rela- 
tion of  producer  to  consumer;  and  Chapter  IV.  offers  a 
masterly  survey  of  industrial  systems — domestic  work, 
wage-work,  handicraft,  commission  work  (house  indus- 
try), and  the  factory.  With  these  chapters  may  be  classed 
Chapter  V.  The  Decline  of  the  Handicrafts.  The  re- 
maining chapters  analyze  more  specifically,  from  the 
viewpoints  of  the  individual  and  society,  some  of  the  great 
processes  of  industrial  evolution:  union  and  division  of 
labour;  the  intellectual  integration  of  society  as  effected 
by  the  press;  the  formation  of  social  classes;  and  the  fur- 
ther adjustment  of  labour  through  internal  migrations  of 
population.  At  the  same  time  they  enrich  economic 
terminology  with  many  telling  expressions. 


PREFATORY  NOTE.  v 

"  The  worst  use  of  theory  is  to  make  men  insensible  to 
fact,"  Lord  Acton  remarked  in  the  opening  number  of  the 
English  Historical  Review.     Our  author,  with  his  store 
of  minute  facts,  his  keen  analysis  and  his  broad  and  re- 
freshing generalizations,  has  known   how  to  avoid  the 
snare.     His  historical  attitude  is  indicated  by  his  advice 
that  "  our  young  political  economists  "  be  sent  on  jour- 
neys of  investigation  to  the  Russians,  the  Roumanians  and 
the  southern  Slavs  rather  than  to  England  and  America. 
In  the  following  pages,  which  in  their  present  form   I 
trust  do  not  entirely  obliterate  the  pleasing  style  of  the 
original,  his  attention  is,  of  course,  devoted  primarily  to 
economic  rather  than  to  social  and  other  considerations. 
The  volume  has  had  in  Germany  an  unusually  influ- 
ential circulation,  and  has  recently  been  translated  into 
French,  Russian  and  Bohemian.     As  the  preface  notes, 
it  has  done  extensive  service  as  a  general  introduction  to 
"  economic  thinking."     Its  use  for  this  purpose,  through 
the  medium  of  special  transcriptions,  has  already  been  re- 
marked at  some  American  universities.    The  hope  may  be 
indulged  that  its  merits  will  now  receive  wider  recognition, 
and  in  some  measure  impart  to  the  reader  the  stimulus 
felt  by  the  writer  during  a  two  years'  attendance  on  the 
author's  lectures  in  1895-97.    Editorial  annotations,  it  may 
be  added,  have  been  confined  to  the  narrowest  limits. 

In  translating  it  I  have  had  the  valuable  assistance  of 
my  colleague.  Dr.  G.  H.  Needier,  Lecturer  on  German, 
University  College,  to  whom  I  wish  to  express  my  deep 
obligations.  My  thanks  are  also  due  Professor  Biicher  for 
his  patient  answers  to  the  many  queries  sent  over  the  water 
to  him,  to  Professor  Mavor  for  varied  aid  during  the  work 
of  revision,  and  to  Mr.  H.  H.  Langton  and  Mr.  D. 
R.  Keys  for  help  in  correcting  proofs. 


VI 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 


For  the  convenience  of  the  general  reader  a  short  sup- 
plementary bibliography  of  recent  works  in  English  is 
appended. 


University  of  Toronto, 
April  9,  1901. 


S.  M.  W. 


Haddon,  Evolution  of  Art  (,895) ;  Lloyd  Morgmn.  Animal  Life  andlntel- 
I'gfnce  (1891).  Habit  and  Instinct  (1896)  ;  Kcane,  Atan  Past  and  Present 
(1899);  Spencer  and  Gillen,  The  Native  Triies  0/ Central  Australia  (ii<)t))  ■ 
Mackenzie,  An  Jntroducttm  to  Social  Philosophy  (2d  ed..  1895)  ;  Giddings,' 
I>imip!cs  of  Sociology'  (1896);  Gumplowicz,  Outlines  of  Sociology  ^trans! 
1899);  \.<^x\&.  Economic  Foundations  of  Society  (ix2Ln^.  i^^f))-  Ashley  Eco- 
nomic  History  (2  pts..  1888-92).  Surveys  Historic  and  Economic  (1900)- 
Gomme,  The  Village  Community  (1890)  ;  Cunningham,  Growth  of  English 
Industry  and  Commerce  (2  vols..  1890-92),  IVesterr.  Civilization  (1898)  • 
^ocx\,.  Life  and  Labours  of  the  People  (9  vols..  1889-97);  Mayo-Smith' 
Emigration  and  Immigration  (1890);  Weber,  The  Growth  of  Cities  (1899); 
Hobson,  The  Evolution  of  Modem  Capitalism  (1894). 


FROM   THE   PREFACES   TO   THE   FIRST   AND 
SECOND   GERMAN   EDITIONS. 

(April  1893  and  November  1897.) 

The  lectures  in  this  volume  were  originally  delivered 
before  audiences  that  were  not  composed  of  specialists 
exclusively.  .  .  .  Each  lecture  is  complete  in  itself;  the 
same  trains  of  thought  are  indeed  occasionally  repeated, 
but  in  a  different  setting. 

Yet  it  will  readily  be  perceived  that  the  different  parts 
have  an  inner  connection,  and  supplement  each  other  both 
in  subject  and  method.  The  fundamental  idea  running 
through  them  all  is  expressed  in  the  third.  As  need 
scarcely  be  remarked,  the  lecture  is  not  printed  in  the  sum- 
mary form  in  which  it  was  delivered.  I  trust  that  the  gain 
in  accuracy  and  fulness  of  statement  has  not  been  at  the 
expense  of  clearness. 

The  lectures  are  dominated  by  a  uniform  conception  of 
the  orderly  nature  of  economic  development,  and  by  a  sim- 
ilarity in  the  method  of  treating  material.  In  both  respects 
this  accords  with  the  practice  which  I  have  consistently 
followed  ever  since  the  inception  of  my  academic  activity 
and  which  during  continued  scientific  work  has  become 
more  and  more  clearly  and  firmly  established.  With  the 
present  publication  I  accede  to  the  wish  expressed  by  many 
of  my  former  auditors  in  the  only  form  at  present  possible. 
a  form  of  whose  insufficiency  I  myself  am  fully  conscious. 

In  preparing  a  second  edition  one  thing  was  clear:  the 

vii 


VIII 


PREFACE. 


book  must  be  expanded  in  the  direction  in  which  it  had 
been  most  effective.    At  its  first  appearance  I  had  hoped 
that  the  little  volume  might  exert  some  influence  upon  the 
method  of  treating  scientific  problems;   and  indeed  there 
has  appeared  in  recent  years  quite  a  series  of  writings  by 
younger  authors  (some  of  whom  were  seemingly  wholly 
unacquainted  with  my  book),  in  which  the  resuUs  of  the  in- 
vestigations here  published  are  taken  into  account.  Tliis  is 
outwardly  evidenced  by  the  use  of  the  concepts  and  the 
technical   expressions  that   I   introduced  into  the   litera- 
ture of  the  subject,  as  if  they  were  old.  familiar,  scientific 
furniture.     It  is  perhaps  justifiable  to  infer  from  this  that 
the  book  has  exercised   some  influence   upon  academic 
teaching. 

But  it  seems  to  have  found  its  chief  circulation  in  the 
wider  circles  of  the  educated  public,  particularly  among 
college  students,  who  have  used  it  as  a  sort  of  introduc- 
tion to  economics,  and  as  a  preparation  for  economic 
thinking.  That  naturally  decided  me  to  keep  their  wants 
very  particularly  in  view  in  revising  the  book.  In  order 
to  avoid  misconceptions,  however.  I  wish  to  state  ex- 
pressly that  the  employment  of  the  book  for  this  purpose 
requires  the  concurrent  use  of  a  good  systematic  treatise 
on  the  principles  of  jwlitical  economy. 

The  better  to  meet  the  nee.I  of  the  larger  class  just  men- 
tionerl,  I  have  given  some  of  the  lectures  of  the  first  edition 
a  simpler  form,  expanding  them  where  necessary  and 
eliminating  needless  detail.  Extensive  alteration,  'how- 
ever, has  been  confmcd  to  the  lecture  on  the  Organization 
of  W  ork  and  the  l-..rmation  of  Social  Classes.  Here  uni- 
formity of  treatment  seemed  to  recommen.l  a  division  into 
two  chapters  (YUl  and  IX).  .md  such  extensive  ad.litions 
as  would  serve  to  round  off  each  in-lepen.lently  of  the 
other.    1  he  lecture  on  the  Social  Organization  of  the  Pop- 


PREFACE. 


iz 


ulation  of  Frankfurt  in  the  Middle  Ages  has  been  omitted 
because  it  disturbed  the  greater  uniformity  aimed  at  for 
the  complete  work,  and  because,  as  a  purely  historical  ac- 
count, it  is  better  suited  to  a  collection  of  sketches  in  social 
and  economic  history,  for  which  opportunity  may  perhaps 
be  found  later. 

On  the  other  hand  three  unpublished  lectures  have  been 
added  (Chaps.  I,  V,  and  VII).  The  fust  of  these  deals 
with  the  pre-economic  period,  and  is  intended  to  furnish 
the  substructure  for  the  system  of  economic  stages  which 
is  developed  in  the  third  chapter.  Its  main  features  were 
sketched  as  early  as  1885,  in  a  lecture  I  delivered  at  the 
University  of  Basel  on  the  beginnings  of  social  history. 
.  .  .  The  second  agrees  in  the  major  part  of  its  matter, 
and  also  to  a  large  extent  in  its  form,  with  the  report  upon 
handicrafts  that  I  presented  at  the  last  general  meeting 
of  the  Social  Science  Club  in  Cologne.  It  seems  advisable 
to  give  it  a  place  in  order  to  afford  the  reader  at  one  point 
at  least  an  insight  into  the  great  changes  that  are  in  prog- 
ress in  the  held  of  modern  industrial  life.  The  third  [en- 
titled "  Union  of  Labour  and  Labour  in  Common  "]  is  an 
attempt  to  lay  before  a  wider  circle  of  readers,  in  the  form 
in  which  I  finally  presented  it  to  my  university  classes,  a 
chapter  from  the  theory  of  labour  to  which  I  have  given 
considerable  attention. 

All  the  lectures  in  this  volume,  both  old  and  new.  were 
originally  sections  of  university  lectures.  Every  lecturer 
knows  what  a  wonderful  contpilation  his  note-book  is.  how 
from  semester  to  semester  certain  portions  must  be  re- 
moved and  reconstructed,  how  some  parts  are  never 
approached  without  an  inward  struggle,  and  how  tinally 
the  remaining  ditViculties  are  surmounted  and  the  whole 
given  a  form  satisfactory  alike  to  teacher  and  students. 
To   the   lecture-room   first    of   all    belono-   the    fruits   of 


i 


*  PREFACE. 

the  scientific  labours  of  the  German  university  professor; 
but  he  also  naturally  wishes  to  submit  what  he  has  labori- 
ously accomplished  to  the  critical  judgment  of  specialists; 
and  for  my  part  I  feel  in  such  cases  the  further  need  of  test- 
ing the  maturity  of  my  conceptions  by  seeing  whether  they 
can  be  made  intelligibly  acceptable  to  a  wider  range  of 
readers.  So  th^t  all  the  lectures  that  have  been  taken  over 
from  the  first  edition  were  actually  delivered  before  a  more 
popular  audience,  while  Chapters  I  and  VII  are  essays  in 
the  same  style.  In  the  extent  of  their  subject-matter,  how- 
ever, they  all  reach  far  beyond  what  can  be  offered  directly 
to  students  in  a  university  lecture. 

In  conclusion  I  may  allude  to  two  attacks  that  have 
been  delivered  by  historians  against  some  parts  of  the  third 
and  fourth  lectures.  The  blame  surely  does  not  rest  with 
nie  if  these  gentlemen  have  failed  to  perceive  that  this 
work  treats  of  economic  theor>-.  not  of  economic  history. 
I  le  who,  in  the  outline  of  a  period  of  de\'elopment  extend- 
ing over  thousands  of  years,  expects  a  minute  and  ex- 
haustive presentation  of  the  actual  condition  of  any  par- 
ticular people  and  centun-.  need  blame  only  himself  if  he 
is  disappointed.  In  the  first  edition  I  expressed  myself 
clearly  enough.  I  think,  regarding  the  logical  character  of 
the  economic  stages.  In  the  present  edition  I  have  taken 
(H-casion.  however,  to  give  the  passages  in  question  such  a 
form  that  in  future  they  cannot  with  good  intentions  be 
misuii.lerstood.  .  .  .  Though  fdr  the  central  idea  of  my 
theory  of  development  it  is  altogether  immaterial  whether 
I  have  in  every  particular  characterized  the  economy  of 
the  (Ireeks  and  Romans  correctly  or  not.  or  whether  the 
guild  handicraft  of  the  Midille  .\ges  was  chiefly  wage-wx>rk 
or  chiefly  independent  hand-work  {,'  price-work  *'). 


PREFACE  TO  THE  THIRD  GERMAN  EDITION. 

In  the  present  edition,  bearing  in  mini  the  way  in  which 
this  book  came  into  existence  and  has  since  expanded,  I 
felt  strongly  impelled  to  mark  my  appreciation  of  the 
recognition  it  has  gained,  as  indicated  by  several  editions 
and  by  translations  into  French,  English.  Russian,  and 
Bohemian,  by  preparing  additional  chapters  to  remove  a 
number  of  gaps  still  noticeable  in  the  last  issue.  If  I  have 
not  yielded  to  the  temptation,  it  is  chiefly  for  the  reason 
that  a  larger  bulk  would  necessarily  prejudice  the  wider 
circulation  of  the  volume. 

The  most  disturbing  want  has  been  met  by  the  insertion 
of  a  new  chapter  on  the  economic  life  of  primitive  peoples 
(Chapter  II).  The  chapter  differs  from  the  more  detailed 
one  in  volume  3  uf  the  Yearbook  of  the  Gehe  Stiftung 
in  its  more  summar>-  form  and  in  the  addition  of  some  not 
unimportant  facts. 

All  the  other  chapters  have  been  carefully  revised  and 
many  slight  improvements  made.  More  extensive  alter- 
ations are  confmed  to  Chapters  I.  III.  Vll,  and  VIII. 

May  the  book  in  its  present  form  satisfy  its  old  friends 
and  add  new  ones  to  the  number! 

C.\RL    Pii'CHER. 
Lkipzk,.  Oct.  15,  190a 

xi 


\y 


CONTENTS 


rAcs 

Prefatory  Note iii 

From  the  Prefaces  to  First  and  Second  Ge^.man  Editions...  vii 

Preface  to  Third  German  Edition xi 

Chapter   I. — Primitive  Economic  Conditions i 

II. — The  Economic  Life  ok  Primitive  Peoples 41 

N^    III.— The  Rise  of  National   Economy 83 

IV. — A  Historical  Survey  of  Industrial  Systems...  150 

V. — The  Decline  of  the   Handicrafts 185 

VI. — The  Genesis  of  Journalism 215 

VII.— Union  of  Labour  and  Labour  in  Common 244 

jt-  VIII.— Division  of  Labour 282 

IX.— Organization   of  Work  and  the   Formaiion  of 

Social  Classes 315 

X.— Internal    Migrations   of    Population    *ni)    the 

Growth  of   Towns  Considered   Historically  345 

Index 387 


CHAPTER  I. 

PRIMITIVE   ECONOMIC   CONDITIONS. 

All  scientific  investigation  of  industry  starts  with  the 
assumption  that  man  has  a  peculiar  "  economic  nature  " 
belonging  to  no  other  living  creature.  From  this  eco- 
nomic nature  a  principle  is  supposed  to  spring,  which  con- 
trols all  his  actions  that  are  directed  to  the  satisfaction  of 
his  wants.  This  is  the  economic  principle,  the  fundamen- 
tal principle  of  economic  activity.  This  principle  reveals 
itself  in  man's  endeavour  always  and  everywhere  to  attain 
the  highest  possible  satisfaction  with  the  least  possible  sac- 
rifice (labour)— the  "  principle  of  least  sacrifice." 

According  to  this  view  all  man's  economic  actions  are 
actions  directed  toward  an  end  and  guided  by  considera- 
tions of  profit.  Whether  or  not  the  final  impulse  to  eco- 
nomic labour  is  to  be  sought  in  the  instincts  of  man  (the 
instinct  of  self-preservation  and  of  self-interest),  the  satis- 
faction of  these  instincts  is  always  the  result  of  a  series  of 
successive  mental  operations.  Man  estimates  the  extent 
of  the  discomfort  that  -ould  arise  from  the  non-satisfac- 
tion of  a  want  felt  by  him;  he  measures  the  discomfort  that 
the  labour  necessary  to  meet  the  want  can  cause  him;  he 
compares  tlie  discomforts  witli  each  <ithcr.  and  resolves  to 
undertake  the  labour  only  when  the  accompanying  sacrifice 


a  PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 

is  less  than  the  sacrifice  of  remaining  unsatisfied.  More- 
over, upon  undertakmg  the  labour  he  again  chooses  the 
least  burdensome  among  the  various  possible  methods  of 
procedure,  and  thus  has  a  further  series  of  considerations, 
estimations.  comi)arisons,  and  judgments  to  enter  upon. 

In  fact  the  whole  science  of  political  economy  proceeds 
on  the  assumption  that  economic  actions  have  behind  them 
a  rational  motive  and  call  into  play  the  higher  mental  facul- 
ties; and  it  ha-^  evolved  a  kind  of  psyciiology  of  labour,  by 
means  of  whic.i  it  seeks  to  explain  those  actions  in  their 
typical  progress.  Economic  activity  is,  therefore,  some- 
thing especially  human;  indeed  the  question  whether  the 
lower  animals  display  similar  activity,  seems  never  to  have 
been  broached.  The  economic  nature  of  man  is  something 
absolute,  inseparable  from  the  very  character  of  man.' 

Yet  even  among  civilized  mankind,  from  whose  manifold 
activity  the  principle  of  economy  has  lieen  deduced,  indi- 
cations are  not  wanting  to  sl.ow  that  the  economic  nature 
must  be  characteristic  of  different  individuals  in  different 
degree.  Between  the  industrious  and  the  indolent,  the 
provident  and  the  improvident,  the  sparing  and  the  spend- 
thrift, there  are  innumerable  gradations;  and  if  we  only 
observe  the  conduct  of  the  child  towards  his  possessions, 
we  are  easily  convinced  that  the  "  economic  nature  "  must 
be  acquired  anew  by  each  human  being,  and  that  it  is  a 
result  of  education  and  custom,  in  which  individuals  dififer 
no  less  than  in  their  whole  physical  and  mental  develop- 
ment. 

Having  once  reached  this  point,  we  shall  scarcely  be 

•"The  elements  of  economic  character  are  firmly  rooted  in  the 
physical  and  intellectual  (irKanization  of  man,  and  change  just  as  little 
n-^  his  (.utward  character  does,  at  least  in  the  periods  which  come  within 
the  scope  of  the  history  of  mankind."  -Wagner,  Grmdlegung  d.  polit. 
OekoHomk  (,v  Aufl.),  I,  p.  82.  [As  for  animal  sociology,  it  can  hardly 
be  said  to  have  advanced  as  yet  hcyond  animal  psychology.— Eu.] 


PRIMITII^E  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


be 


able  to  postpone  the  question,  whether  indeed  that  "  eco- 
nomic nature  "  does  not,  for  mankind  in  general,  signify 
something  acquired  rather  than  something  given  by  na- 
ture; and  whether  we  must  not  assume  at  the  beginning 
of  human  evolution  a  period  of  purely  instinctive  satisfac- 
tion of  wants  reaching  over  many  thousands  of  years,  such 
as  we  are  accustomed  to  take  for  granted  in  the  case  of  the 
lower  animal. 

The  answer  to  this  question  can  be  gained  only  by  pro- 
ceeding inductively.  The  picture  of  primitive  man  that  we 
make  for  ourselves  must  be  not  an  imaginary  one — no 
Robinson  Crusoe  story  such  as  is  so  often  encountered  in 
the  deductions  of  the  "  classical  "  economists.  Its  lines 
must  all  be  drawn  from  reality;  they  must  show  us  the 
actuality  of  the  assumed  conditions  under  which  uncivil- 
ized man  lives  and  the  impulses  under  which  he  is  con- 
ceived to  act  and  later  also  think.  Civilized  man  has  al- 
ways had  a  great  inclination  to  read  his  conceptions  and 
feelings  into  the  mind  of  primitive  man;  but  he  has  only 
a  limited  capacity  for  understanding  the  latter's  undevel- 
oped mental  life  and  for  interpreting,  as  it  were,  his  nature. 

To  be  sure,  aboriginal  man  in  actual  existence  can  no- 
where now  be  found.  Great  as  is  the  number  of  primitive 
peoples  that  have  gradually  come  within  our  ken.  none  of 
them  stands  any  longer  at  the  lowest  stage  of  savagery; 
all  show  traces  of  the  first  step  in  civilization,  for  all  know 
the  use  of  fire. 

Many  writers,  it  is  true,  have  imagined,  under  the  stim- 
ulus of  evolutionist  theories,  that  they  hail  succeeded, 
now  here,  now  there,  in  discovering  populations  pre- 
serving the  original  animal  state  down  to  the  present. 
As  late  a  writer  as  Sir  John  Lubbock  is  inclined  to 
deny  to  several  tribes  of  the  South  Sea  Islands  a 
knowledge   of  fire,      O.    Peschel   has   been   at   pains   to 


PRmiTlVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


prove  that  the  instances  adduced  by  Lubbock  are  in- 
correct; 2  and  with  him  we  may  regard  as  vaHd  the  asser- 
tion that  upon  the  whole  earth  the  tribe  that  has  not  made 
use  of  fire  is  yet  to  be  found.  Even  the  prehistoric  cave 
discoveries,  which  show  us  men  of  the  Ice  Age  along  with 
the  bear,  the  aurochs,  and  the  reindeer,  show  traces  of  the 
use  of  fire.  Fire  indeed  is  a  powerful  influence  in  the  direc- 
tion of  civilization.  It  enlarges  man's  sphere  of  suste- 
nance, teaches  him  to  harden  the  points  of  the  wooden 
arrows  and  spears,  to  hollow  out  the  tree,  and  to  frighten 
away  the  wild  beasts. 

Other  investi<:;fators  have  imagined  they  have  discovered 
human  beings  who  lived  together  in  small  groups  in  trees, 
had  fruits  for  food,  and  used  only  stones  and  cudgels  as 
weapons  and  instruments,  after  the  fashion  of  the  higher 
apes.  Frederick  Engels^  is  of  the  opinion  that  by  this  as- 
sumption alone  can  we  explain  the  continued  existence  of 
man  alongside  the  great  beasts  of  prey.  Lippert,who  inves- 
tigates the  case  more  carefully,^  finds,  it  is  true,  that  in  the 
myth  of  the  Egyptians  the  tree  plays  a  certain  role  as  an 
abode  of  spirits;  inn  he  is  prudent  enough  not  to  conclude 
from  this  that  the  ancestors  of  the  Egyptians  dwelt  in 
trees, — more  prudent  than  the  philoloi^ist  Lazarus  Geiger, 
who  discovered  a  relic  of  tree-dwelling  in  the  hammock 
used  by  the  South  American  Indians.  It  is  true  that  in 
Sumatra,  Luzon,  New  Guinea,  the  Solomon  Islands,  and 

'Races  of  Man  (New  York.  1888),  pp.  137  ff.  I  know,  indeed,  that 
the  Anicricin  writer  Teale  (quoted  i)y  Lippcrt.  Kultwgcschichte  der 
Mcnschhcit.  I.  p.  5_>)  has  cdntradicted  him  in  one  instance.  Mundt- 
LaufT  lias  also,  according  to  Pesclul  in  "  Natiir  "  for  the  year  1879,  p. 
4-8,  denied  the  ii^e  of  cooked  food  hy  the  Xei;ritos  in  tlte  IMiilippines, 
but  his  assertions  again  liave  been  refuted  by  .\.  Schadenberg  in  the 
Ztschr.  f.  Ethnologie,  XII  (1880),  pp,  14,^4.  [Xo  ethnologist  would 
now  claim  fireless  tribes  as  known  in  actual  existence. — En.] 

*  Der  Ursprung  dcr  Familic,  des  Privatcigciituws  u.  dcs  Staats.  p.  7. 

*  As  above,  pp.  67  ff. 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS.  5 

among  the  Gaberi  negroes  in  Central  Africa,  huts  have 
been  found  built  in  between  the  branches  of  large  trees; » 
and  the  same  is  reported  of  individual  forest  tribes  of  South 
America.®  But  so  far  as  these  products  of  primitive  archi- 
tecture are  not  mere  temporary  protective  structures  that 
are  supplemented  by  permanent  dwelling-places  upon  the 
ground,  they  are  by  no  means  the  most  unfinished  of  hab- 
itations, and  the  peoples  using  them  prove  by  many  kinds 
of  implements,  utensils,  and  domestic  animals,  and  some 
of  them  even  by  the  agriculture  they  carry  on,  that  they  no 
longer  stand  at  the  first  dawn  of  civilization. 

After  what  has  been  said  there  can  be  no  object  in 
searching  out  uncivilized  peoples  and  beginning  with  a 
description  of  them,  after  the  example  of  Klemm  who 
opens  his  General  History  of  Civilization  with  the  Fo'-est 
Indians  of  Brazil,  although  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that         e 
stand  at  a  very  low  cultural  stajje  indeed.     In  the  &    ne 
connection  other  investigators  cite  tribes  standing  at  no 
higher  stage:  the  Bushmen  in  South  Africa,  the  Batuas 
in  the  Congo  basin,  the  Veddahs  in  Ceylon,  the  ^lincopies 
in  the  Andaman  Islands,  the  Negritos  in  the  Philippines, 
the  Australians  of  the  continent,   the  now  extinct  Tas- 
manians,  the  Kubus  in  Sumatra,  and  the  Tierra-del-Fue- 
gians.    To  whom  to  adjudge  the  palm  for  savagerv  might 
be  difficult  to  decide.     O.  Peschel  '  finds  individual  ele- 
ments of  civilization  among  them  all,  even  among  the 
Botokudos,  whom  he  himself  considers  still  nearest  the 
primitive  state. 
The  assumption  of  such  a  primitive  condition,  in  which. 

'  Nachtigal,  Sahara  u.  Sudan,  II,  pp.  628  flf.  Finsch.  Samoafahrten. 
pp.  271  f.  Ratzel.  \-6lkerkunde.  I.  pp.  loi,  105,  245,  386;  li,  p.  83. 
[Its  different  arrangement  precludes  citation  from  the  admirable  Eng- 
lish edition:  The  History  of  Mankind.  2  vol?.,  London,  1896-97.— Ed.] 
Waitz,  Anthropologic  d.  Naturvolker.  Ill,  p.  393. 

'  Races  of  A/oi;,  pp.  149  ff. 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


armed  witli  no  other  resources  than  are  at  the  command  of 
the  lower  animal,  man  has  to  join  in  tlie  struggle  for  exist- 
ence, is  one  of  the  necessary  expedients  of  all  sciences  that 
aim  at  a  history  of  man's  development;  and  this  is  true  of 
sociology'  and  especially  of  political  economy.  We  must, 
however,  abandon  the  attempt  to  exemplify  the  primitive 
condition  by  any  definite  people.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
is  more  prospect  of  scientific  results  in  an  endeavour  to 
collect  the  common  characteristics  of  the  human  beings 
standing  lowest  in  the  scale,  in  order,  by  starting  with 
them,  to  arrive  at  a  i)":ture  of  the  beginnings  of  economic 
life  and  the  formation  of  society.  But  in  this  it  is  by  no 
means  necessary  to  confine  ourselves  to  the  above-men- 
tioned representatives  of  the  lowest  manner  of  life;  for 
every  delimitation  of  that  kind  would  challenge  objections 
and  contract  the  field  of  vision.  Moreover  the  various  ele- 
ments of  mental  culture  and  material  civilization  are  by 
no  means  so  mutually  dependent  that  all  must  necessarily 
develop  at  an  equal  pace,  and  thus  we  find  among  almost 
all  primitive  peoples  characteristics  that  can  have  sprung 
only  from  the  most  ancient  mode  of  life.  The  collection 
of  these  characteristics,  and  their  combination  into  a 
typical  picture,  must,  however,  be  our  first  task. 

Hitherto  the  process  has  usually  been  made  too  simple 
by  deriving  the  characteristics  of  primitive  man  from  civil- 
ized economic  man.  The  many  wants  of  man  in  a  state  of 
nature,  so  it  has  been  argued,  demanded  for  their  satisfac- 
tion exertions  beyond  the  capacity  of  the  individual;  pro- 
tection from  wild  bea:;ts  or  from  the  unchained  elements 
could  likewise  be  attained  only  by  the  labour  of  many. 
Accordingly  writers  have  spoken  of  a  collective  carrying- 
on  of  the  struggle  for  existence,  and  thus  have  had  "  prim- 
itive society  "  and  a  sort  of  communistic  economy  com- 
plete. 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIJSS. 


But  man  has  undoubtedly  existed  through  immeasur- 
able periods  of  time  without  labouring.  If  so  disposed, 
one  can  find  plenty  of  districts  upon  the  earth  where 
the  sago-palm,  the  plantain-tree,  the  breadfruit-tree,  the 
cocoa-  and  date-palm,  still  allow  him  to  live  with  a  mini- 
mum of  exertion.  It  is  in  such  districts  that  tradition  is 
fondest  of  placing  paradise,  the  original  home  of  mankind; 
and  even  modern  research  cannot  dispense  with  the  as- 
sumption that  mankind  was  at  first  bound  to  such  regions 
of  natural  existence  and  only  by  further  development  be- 
came capable  of  bringing  the  whole  earth  into  subjection. 
Of  unions  into  organized  society  we  find,  moreover, 
hardly  a  trace  amon-  the  lowest  races  accessible  to  our 
observation.  In  little  roups  *  like  herds  of  animals  they 
roam  about  in  search  of  food,  find  a  resting-place  for  the 
night  in  caves,  beneath  a  tree,  behind  a  screen  of  brush- 
wood erected  in  a  few  minutes  to  shelter  them  from  the 
wind,  or  often  in  a  mere  hollow  scooped  in  the  ground, 
and  nourish  themselves  chiefly  with  fruits  and  roots, 
though  all  kinds  of  animal  food,  even  down  to  snails,  mag- 
gots, irrasshoppers,  and  ants  are  eaten  also.  The  men  as 
a  rule  .  t  armed  simply  with  bow  and  arrow  or  with  a 
throwing-stick;  the  chief  implement  of  the  women  is  the 
digging-stick,  a  pointed  piece  of  wood,  which  they  use  in 
searching  for  roots.  Shy  when  they  come  in  contact  with 
members  of  a  higher  race,  often  malicious  and  cruel,  they 
lead  a  restless  life,  in  which  the  body,  it  is  true,  attains  the 
maximum  of  agility  and  dexterity,  but  in  which  technical 
skill  advances  only  with  extreme  sluggishness  and  one- 
sidedness.  The  majority  of  peoples  of  this  type  know 
nothing  whatever  of  potter>-  and  the  working  of  metals. 
Even  of  wood.  bast,  stone,  and  bone  they  make  but  limited 
'Comp.  en  this  point  E.   Grosse.  DU   Format  dcr  Familie  und  die 


fc 


ii:  iicr  ;;  irtscn^r:.  p. 


»  PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 

use,  and  this  use  leads  in  no  way  to  a  stock  of  utensils  and 
tools,  which  indeed  it  would  I)e  impossible  to  carry  about, 
I)ecause  of  their  nomadic  life,  bearing  as  it  does  the  char- 
acter of  one  continuous  search  for  food." 

•In  order  to  puppleniunt  this  general  account  by  a  few  details  I  will 
here   introduce  ;i   portion  oi   the  description  of  the   NcRritos   in   the 
Philippines  published   in  the   work  by   A.   Scliadenberg.   cited  above. 
I   Mive   for  the   most  par'   his   own   words:— The   women  among  the 
Etas  bear  easily  and  (piickiy.     Until  able  to  walk,  the  child  is  carried 
by  the  mother,  generally  on  the  left  thiRh.  in  which  case  it  assumes 
a  sort  of  riding  posture;    or  upon  the  back,  as  soon  as  it  is  able  to 
hold  Itself  on.     The  mother  nur^e^  it  for  about  two  years.     .\t  about 
the   tenth   year   puberty  comes;    the    Negrito  youth   is   then   tattooed, 
and  from  the  moment  when  this  decoration  of  his  body  is  finished  he 
IS  iiiuependent.     He  accordingly  hjoks  about  him  for  a  male,  who  has 
in  tile  majority   of  cases   been   selected   for  h  'ii   beforehand  and   who. 
if  possible,  belonRS  to  the  same  "  family."    The  members  of  a  "  family," 
which  generally  numbers  twenty  to  thirty  persons,  are  under  the  con- 
trol  of  an   elective  chieftain,   who  decides   upon   the   camping-places 
and  the  time  for  breaking  up.     The  family  life  is  patriarchal  in  char- 
acter     The    father   has    imlimitid   power    over   the    members   of    his 
family;    he  can  chasiisi  them  and  even  barter  away  his  children;    the 
woman  occupies  a  subordinate   position  and  is  treated  as  a  chattel. 
The  Negritos  carry  on  barterni',,'  wiih  the  Tagalas;    in  this  way  they 
get   supplies,   chiefly  of  iron,   in   exchange  for  honey  and   wa.\.      By 
means  of  the  iron  thus  ac(|uircd  they  i>reparc  part  of  their  weapons, 
whi-'h    consist    of    hunting-knives,    .irrows.    bows,    and    -pears       The 
Negritos  ,ire  also  very  clever  at  throwing  stones,   in   which   they   arc 
greatly  a--i-ted  by  their  keenness  of  vision.     .\  ston.-  in  the  hand  of 
an    otherwise    unarmed    Negrito    is    thus    an    otTensive    and    defensive 
wenpon  not  to  be  despised.     Their  clothing  is  very  scant,  hardly  more 
th.iii     a     lireich-clou;         l)omestn-     utensils     f.ir     periiMiieiU     use     are 
scarcely   fotiiid   at    ill   ;niio!ii.'   the    I'.i.is;     soiiu'iimes   ,i   clay    vessel    got 
by    barter   witlt   the    M,il:i>>.   ,in<l   as   a   rule   .'    piei  e   of   bimboo   from 
tliree    lii   fiiiir    fmtns    in    |.  iigtii    lor    li.il.luig    drinkiu'.;  w;i<er.      Their 
toes   ,,rr  pnlien-ile.   :i"d  iir--  of   me  it   a-sis|:iiice  to   tlii'iii   in   cliiii!>:;i^; 
111   t!ie  iralicr  (.f   imul  tlir>    .ire   not   i.isiidioii^ ;    it   is   both  amm;il  ,ind 
M'.M'iab'e   111   chai.utrr  — roots.   Iiuiiey,   lr..g,,   il.er,    wild  bo.ar.   etc.      .A 
Sp.ini-li   e;iie-.i:i-iir  dcM-rilfes  tin  ni   ,i^   follow,:     "Tin    pure   .\itos  or 
Negrito,  l.acl  a  s,c!u(lr.|  life;    th.y  li.ive  ii..  fised  dwelling-place  and 
d..   not   l.irM  ti;'?-      Tli,-   i.hIkt.   tli.'   iiiotlnr.  and   the  children  ;ire   all 
pr.fvided  wi'h  arrows,  each  lining  Ins  tiwti.  .md  tiny  -et  out  together 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS.  9 

These  peoples  liave  been  designated  "lower  nomads"; 
but  it  can  scarcely  be  proven  that  actual  hunting  forms 
their  chief  means  of  sustenance.  They  all  make  use  of 
vegetable  food  as  far  as  it  is  at  all  obtainable,  and  with 
those  who  live  in  a  warmer  climate  this  food  seems  to  pre- 
dominate. Stores  of  such  fruits  and  roots  they  do  not 
gather,  though  a  region  of  plentiful  supplies  attracts  a 
greater  number  of  members  of  the  tribe,  as  a  rich  feeding- 
ground  draws  together  many  lower  animals;  when  it  is 
exhausted  they  scatter  again.  And  similarly  as  to  the 
mollusks  and  insects  which  they  consume;  each  individ- 
ual at  once  swallows  what  he  finds;  joint  household  life 
is  as  little  known  as  is  a  house.  It  is  only  when  a  large 
animal  has  been  killed  or  found  dead  (the  fondness  for 
meat  in  a  state  of  decay  is  widespread)  that  the  whole 
group  assemlile,"^*  and  each  devours    is  much  as  he  can; 


upon  the  hunt.  When  they  kill  ,1  dicr  or  a  hoar,  they  halt  at  the 
spot  where  the  animal  has  fallen,  scoop  a  hole  in  the  ground,  place 
the  animal  in  it  and  then  build  a  fire.  I'ach  one  takes  the  piece  of 
the  animal  that  suits  his  taste  hest  and  roasts  it  at  the  fire.  And  so 
they  go  on  eating  until  they  have  tilled  their  bellies,  and  when  thus 
satiated  they  sleep  on  the  earth  which  they  have  hollowed  out,  as 
pigs  do  when  they  have  gorged  themselves.  W'heTi  they  awake 
they  go  through  the  same  operation,  and  so  on  until  ;ill  the  meat  is 
dev.mrod:  then  they  set  out  upon  the  hunt  at;ain."  They  observe  no 
fixed  times  for  sleeping  and  eatmg,  but  follow  necessity  in  both  cases. 
They  age  early;  at  forty  or  fifty  the  mountain  Xe^ritos  are  decrepit, 
white-haireil.  bent  old  iiifii. — Compare  further  the  de^rriptii>n>  of 
the  I?otokiidos  by  l^hrenreich,  Zl^chr  f.  I-.;hnol  ,  \1\.  pii  1  tT;  of 
the  Hororo^  by  K  \.  d  Steinen.  (itUr  d  Wititnolh.  Ci-ntiiil-Hrjsii , 
PP-  .iSS  <T. :  of  the  Riishmen  by  I•'rit^ch,  a^  abo\e,  pp  4iStT  ;  of  the 
Veddahs  by  V.  and  I"  Sarasin.  /'iV  U'cdJils  foil  (  rvA'/l;  of  the  .\us- 
trdians  by    Hreniaiio.   Ztschr,   f.    Sozial-   ti.   Win^rliaftsneschichte,    I, 

PP-   i.(.l-4 

'"  I'rom  the  custom  prevalent  among  some  of  the  lower  tribc^  of 
procliiiniii),;  the  tindin.ir  of  food  by  means  of  lnuci  call-.  Lippert,  as 
abo\e,  I.  p  J4(),  coiiclu'lc-  tli.it  "the  coti^iile'i'ion  dne  to  the  fami'y  " 
is  cxprPNScd   m   ibn   n  iv       It!    ibi..   inmn-.-lMti    il    is   in   ti,.   i  li>rrv  I'd    ili.at 


lo 


rRlMlTiyE  ECCSOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


but  tlic  method  nf  hunting  these  animals  strongly  resem- 
bles the  proce»lure  of  the  wild  beast  stealing  upon  its  prey. 

With  their  imperfect  weapons  these  peoples  are  hardly 
ever  in  a  position  to  kill  an  animal  instantly;  the  chief 
task  of  the  hunter  consists  in  pursuing  the  wounded  game 
until  it  sinks  down  exhau.-.ted." 

Regarding  the  constitution  of  the  family  among  peo- 
ples of  this  class,  there  has  been  much  discussion.  Of  late 
the  opinion  seems  to  be  gaining  ground  that  there  exists 
among  them  a  fellowship  between  man  and  wife  that  ex- 

onds  beyond  a  mere  -exual  relationship  and  is  of  life-long 
duration;  while  upon  the  other  hand  it  cannot  be  denied 
that  in  case  of  a  scarcity  of  food  those  loose  groups  easily 
split  up.  or  at  least  individual  members  detach  themselves 
from  them.  Only  between  mother  and  child  is  the  rela- 
tionship particularly  close.  The  mother  must  always  take 
her  little  one  along  with  her  on  the  march;  and  for  that 
purpose  she  usually  fastens  it  in  some  way  on  her  back,  a 
custom  that  is  very  general  among  all  primitive  peoples, 
even  where  they  have  gone  over  to  agriculture.  For  sev- 
eral years  the  child  must  be  nurtured  at  the  breast  or  from 
the  mother's  mouth,  but  it  soon  acquires  skill  in  procuring 
its  food  independently,  and  often  separates  itself  from  the 
community  in  its  eighth  or  tenth  year. 

All  the  tribes  involved  in   our  survey   belong  to  the 
smaller  races  of  mankind,  and  in  bodily  condition  give  the 


many  animals  (for  ixaniple,  our  domestic  fowl)  have  the  :ame  cus- 
tom. True,  he  lays  stress  upon  the  fact  that  no  one  thinks  of  collect- 
ing' stores  of  provision*.  'Inercfore,  we  are,  lurther.  not  justified  in 
agreeinff  to  the  proposal  that  has  recently  been  made  from  several 
sides  t"  designate  these  peoples   is  gatherers  of  stores  {Samnilcr). 

"  Ciinip.  li.  Fritsch.  DU-  lliitgeboretun  Stid-.lfrikas,  pp.  Jti4.  4^5; 
Pofivre,  Im  Krichf  d.  Muatn  Jiinin'o.  pp.  .128-0;  W'issniann.  /m  Innem 
.-Jfri'i,?.  (!•>.  ::'().  -,41;  Martins,  Zur  Lthiwgral'Ue  Aiicrikas,  cufflal 
Brasilu'is.  pp.  <'('5  ff. 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  COSDITIOSS. 


1 1 


impression  of  backward:,  stunted  gro-.vth.  We  are  not  on 
that  account,  howe'.er,  ju^f.ne'i  :n  re.i'ar iing  them  as  ce- 
generate  race  fragrr.en-s.  The  evylence  rather  goes  to 
sho'.v  that  the  more  a'i  anccl  races  o.ve  their  higher 
physical  development  merely  to  the  reg"u',ar  and  more 
plentiful  supply  of  food  -Ahich  agriculture  and  cattle- 
raising  for  centuries  ;'.'a-t  have  placed  within  their  reach, 
while  the  peoples  here  in  question  have  always  remained 
at  the  same  stage.  Subject  to  all  the  vicissitudes  of  the 
weather  and  the  fortune  of  the  chase,  thev  revel  at  times 
in  abundance  and  devour  incredible  mas-es  of  food:  :tiil 
oftener.  however,  they  sufrer  bitter  wan:,  and  their  only 
article  of  clothing,  the  breech-clout,  is  for  them,  really  the 
■"hunger-strap"  ' "  Schmachtnemien  "i  A  Germ.an  story, 
which  they  tighten  -d^^  in  order  to  alleviate  the  pangs  of 
gnawing  hunger.' - 

How  from  this  stage  of  primitive  existence  the  pa.h 
leads  upward  is  manifest  in  countless  typical  e.\ample5 
furnished  by  ethnology.  In  addition  to  the  collection  of 
wild  fruits  and  roots,  the  womian  takes  over  the  cultiva- 
tion o:  food-plants.  This  she  carries  on  at  nrst  witli  the 
customary  digging-stick,  later  with  a  short-handled  hoe. 
The  man  continues  hi;  hunting  ani'  ti-hing.  which,  in  rich 
hunting-grounds  and  ui'h  more  ['Crfect  v.  eap'^n-.  he  can 
make  so  pr  luctive  that  \'rt/  f-.irni-h  the  greater  ---art  of 
his  food.  .\t  times  he  supplements  these  by  cattle-raiding. 
In  the  procuring  of  :oo<i  each  sex  has  it-  sharply  denned 
-phete  of  duties  ti>  vvhioh  with  advancing  technical  skill 
there  are  added  in  each  ca«e  •- .iriou^  industrial  arts,  which 
a-  .'i  rule  retain  their  connecti'.n  witii  the  "riginal  produc- 
tion and  occupation      .Among  advanced  primitive  peoples 


"-c-  the  Bu^hr-.er.  ccT.p    Fr.!^;h.  at  i'--.':    ;.    405.    -jn  the  .Xus- 
•ra'i-i--    Pesch*!,  PiCff    f  M:n   p    \u:      r.  the  Botokud^j.  Ehrenreich 


12 


PRlM/r/yE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


all  economic  activity  may  be  traced  back  to  combinations 
of  these  elements;  but  in  its  details  such  labour  is  entirely 
dependent  ui^on  local  natural  conditions.  We  should 
therefore  not  be  justified  in  any  attempt  to  construct  sta-es 
of  development  intended  to  hold  equally  good  for  negroes 
Papuans,  Polynesians,  and  Indians. 

But  wherever  we  can  observe  it,  the  method  in  which 
primitive  peoples  satisfy  their  wants  reminds  us  continu- 
ally in  many  of  its  features  of  the  instinctive  doings  of  the 
lower  animals.    Everywhere  their  existence  is  still  far  from 
settled,  and  even  the  unsubstantial  huts  they  erect  are  for 
the  majority  only  temporary  structures  which,  however 
much  they  vary  from  place  to  place  and  from  tribe  to  tribe, 
always  remain  true  to  a  type,  and  remind  us  of  the  nests  of 
birds,  which  are  deserted  as  soon  as  the  brood  is  fledged. 
When   Lippert  finds  the  fundamental  and  controlling 
impulse  to  cultural  development  in  material  foresight,  he 
undoubtedly  makes  an  advance  upon  earlier  investigators; 
but  the  phrase  itself  is  not  happily  chosen.     It  is  utterly 
impossible  to  speak  of  foresight,  in  the  sense  of  providing 
for    the    future,    in    connection    with    primitive    peoples. 
Primitive  man  does  not  think  of  the  future;    he  does  not 
think  at  all;   he  only  wills,  that  is,  he  wills  to  preserve  his 
existence.    Tlie  instinct  of  self-preservation  and  self-grati- 
fication is  the  prime  agent  of  development,  compared  with 
which  even  the  sexual  instinct   takes  quite  a  secondary 
place. 

Wherever  it  has  been  possiI)Ie  for  Europeans  to  observe 
men  in  primitive  conditions  for  any  k-ngth  of  time  they 
tell  us  of  the  incomparable  dulncss  and  mental  inertness 
which  strike  the  neholder;  of  their  indifference  tr.  the  sub- 
limcst  phenomena  of  nature,  their  complete  lack  of  interest 
in  evcr\thing  that  lies  outside  the  individual  self.  The 
savage  is  willing  to  cat.  sleep,  and.  wh  .tc  ncccssarv.  to  pro 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


13 


tect   himself   against    the   greatest    inclemencies   of   the 
weather:  this  is  his  whole  aim  in  life. 

It  is  therefore  entirely   false  and  contrary  to  numer- 
ous well-accredited  observations  when  Peschel  straightway 
ascribes  to  savages  a  peculiar  wealth    of  fanciful  imag- 
inings of  a  religious  nature,  and  thinks  that  the  closer  the 
approach  to  the  condition  of  nature  the  greater  the  range 
of  belief.    He  evidently  assumes  that  the  course  of  the  sun 
and  the  other  phenomena  of  the  heavens  must  be  infinitely 
more  impressive  and  stimulative  of  active  thought  to  the 
primitive  than  to  the  civilized  man.     But  that  is  by  no 
means  the  case.     Both  among  the  Indians  of  Brazil  and 
among  the  negroes,   when   travellers   have   asked   about 
these  things,   the   response   has  been   that   people  never 
thought  about  them;  and  Herbert  Spencer  '•'  has  collected 
an  abundance  of  examples  which  show  that  the  lover  races 
do  not  manifest  any  interest  even  in  the  most  novel  phe- 
nomena.    The  Patagonians,  for  example,  displayed  utter 
indifference  when    they  were  made  to  look  into  a  mirror; 
and  Dampier  reports  that  the  .\ustralians  whom  he  had 
taken  on  board  of  his  ship  paid  attention  to  nothing  but 
what  they  got  to  eat.     Burton'*  calls  the  East  .\fricans 
"  Men  who  can  think,  but  who,  absorbed  in  providing  for 
their  bodily  wants,  hate  the  trouble  of  thinking.     His  [the 
East  African's]   mind,  limited  to  the  object  seen,  heard, 
and  felt,  will  not,  and  apparently  can  not,  cscaj^e  from  the 
circle  of  sense,  nor  will  it  occupy  itself  with  aught  but  the 
present.    Thus  he  is  cut  off  from  the  pleasures  of  memory, 
and  the  world  of  fancy  is  altogether  unknown  to  him."  "■' 
The  same  force,  then,  that  impels  the  lower  animal,  the 

"  Prmciplcs  of  Sociology,  vol.  I.  8§  45-6. 

I*  The  Lake  Regions  of  Central  Africa  (  New  York,  iWx)),  p   480. 

"Oiinp.  tlie  siniil.ir  opinion  of  the  mission.iry  Cr.in?.  Ifistorie  von 
Cronlatid  (Frankfurt.  1780).  p.  i6.i,  at.d  Lubbock.  Oriem  -f  Civili:atioH 
(4th  ed.).  pp.  51^  7, 


.^i0 


M 


PRIMITiyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


instinct  for  preserving  its  existence,  is  also  the  dominant 
instinctive  impulse  of  primitive  man.  This  instinct  is  lim- 
ited in  scope  to  the  single  individual;  in  respect  of  time, 
to  the  moment  at  which  the  want  is  felt.  In  other  words: 
the  savage  thinks  only  of  himself,  and  thinks  only  of  the 
present.  What  lies  beyond  that  is  as  gootl  as  closed  to  his 
mental  \  ision.  When,  therefore,  many  observers  reproach 
him  with  a  boundless  egoism,  hardness  of  heart  towards  his 
fellows,  greed,  thievishness,  inertness,  carelessness  with  re- 
gard to  the  future,  and  forgetfulness.  it  means  that  sym- 
pathy, memory,  and  reasoning  power  are  still  entirely  un- 
developed. Nevertheless  it  will  be  wise  for  us  to  make 
these  ver}'  characteristics  our  starting-point,  in  order  to 
comprehend  the  relation  of  primitive  man  to  the  external 
world. 

In  the  first  place,  as  concerns  the  egoism  of  the  savage 
and  his  harducs.  of  heart  towards  his  nearest  relations,  this 
is  a  natural  consequence  of  the  restless  nomadic  life  in 
which  each  individual  cares  only  for  himself.  It  shows 
itself  most  prominently  in  the  extraordinarily  widespread 
custom  of  infanticide,  which  extremely  few  primitive  peo- 
ples are  entirely  free  from.'*  The  children  impede  'he 
horde  on  the  march  and  in  the  search  for  food.  Therein 
lies  the  chief  reason  for  their  removal.  Once  become  a 
custom,  infanticide  lives  on  in  later  stages  of  civilization; 
indisputable  traces  of  it  have  been  found  not  merely  among 
the  primitive  peoples  of  Asia,  Africa,  America,  Australia, 
and  Polynesia,  but  even  among  the  Arabs,  the  Romans, 
and  the  Greeks. 

To  infanticide  is  universally  ascribed  the  exceptionally 
slow  increase  of  the  uncivilized  races.  But  this  is  also  de- 
pendent  upon  their  short   lives,   and  long  lactation  pe- 

"' Comp.  Lippert,  II,  pp.  201  flf. ;    R.itzcl,  lolkcrkunde,  I,  pp.  108,  J54, 
252,  277,  306,  338,  425. 


PRlMITiyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS.  15 

riods,  during  which,  as  is  well  known,  conception  rarely 
occurs,  and  this  it  is  which  forms  the  chief  cause  of  their 
protracted  tarrying  at  the  same  stage  of  civilization.  That 
the  natural  bond  between  parents  and  children  is  nowhere 
very  firm  is  seen  also  in  the  extremely  common  custom  of 
adoption.'^  It  is  even  said,  for  example,  that  in  the  "  fam- 
ilies "  of  the  Mincopies  the  children  of  other  parents  are  in 
the  majority.  It  is  significant  that  between  thtir  own  and 
their  adopted  chililren  they  make,  as  a  rule,  not  the  slight- 
est difference.  Adoption  may  have  arisen  from  the  substi- 
tution of  child-exposure  for  infanticide.  If  the  natural 
mother  was  not  in  a  position  to  take  the  new-born  child 
along  with  her.  perhaps  another  woman  who  was  childless 
could,  and  thus  the  life  of  the  child  was  saved. 

Recent  ethnographers  have  been  at  great  pains  to  prove 
that  the  strength  of  maternal  love  is  a  feature  common 
to  all  stages  of  civilization.  It  is,  indeed,  a  matter  of 
regret  to  us  that  we  find  wanting  in  our  own  si>ecie5  a 
feeling  that  exhibits  itself  in  such  a  pleasing  way  among 
many  families  of  lower  animals.  Rut  there  have  l>een  too 
many  observations  s!''owing  that  among  the  lower  races 
the  mere  care  for  one's  own  existence  outweighs  all  other 
mental  emotions,  in  fact  that  be>i'!e  it  nothing  e'^e  is  of  the 
least  importance.  .Ml  observers  are  amazed  and  even  in- 
dignant at  the  ir.ditlerence  with  which  children,  when  (;nce 
they  can  shift  for  themselves,  separate  from  their  blo^jd- 
relations.''*    Vet  we  have  here  onlv  the  reverse  side  of  that 


"  Comp.  Luhhook,  Origin  of  Ci7i!i:atirii,  pp.  o;-6, 

"Co;iip.  the  strikintj  example  -n  R.itzel.  l',4kerkuttde,  I,  p.  677.  of  a 
tiny  of  Tierr.i  iJel  Fucro  who,  when  taken  on  board  a  European  ship, 
did  nut  show  the  slighte'-t  grief  over  the  separation,  while  his  paretits 
were  delighted  to  get  a  few  necklace*  and  some  bi-cuits  in  return  fijr 
him.  The  seHing  "f  children  and  women  into  slaver>-  doe.s  not  occur 
in  .Vfrica  alone.  Martius.  as  above,  p  uj  Cump.  Pjit,  Afr.  Juris- 
frudeti:,  I,  p.  94. 


i6 


PRIMlTiyE  FCONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


hardness  of  lieart  which  "  enables  husbands  to  refuse  food 
to  tlieir  wives,  and  fathers,  to  deny  it  to  their  hungering 
children,  wlien  they  tliemselves  would  but  feast  upon  it." 

This  same  trait  of  unbounded  selfishness  is  manifest  in 
the  regardlessness  with  which  many  primitive  peoples 
leave  behind  them  on  the  march,  or  exjKise  in  solitary 
places,  the  sick  and  the  aged  who  might  be  an  impediment 
to  the  vigorous.'"  This  trait  has  often  been  interpreted 
as  a  sign  of  superstition,  as  due  to  the  fear  of  evil  powers 
to  whom  the  illnesses  are  ascribed.  And  in  fact  in  the  case 
of  tribes  that  have  become  settled  and  whose  means  of  sub- 
sistence would  admit  of  the  care  of  the  sick,  appearances 
favour  such  an  explanation.  But  at  the  same  time  it  is 
forgotten  that  customs,  once  firmly  rooted,  perpetuate 
themselves  with  great  persistence,  even  when  the  causes 
that  gave  rise  to  them  have  long  since  passed  away. 

I'rom  exposure  to  intentional  killing  is  only  a  short  step. 
Indeed  we  find  even  among  peoples  on  a  higher  plane  of 
civilization  that  old  age  is  deplored  as  a  state  of  extreme 
joylessness.  Barbarism  had  no  affection  between  relatives 
to  alleviate  this  condition,  but  it  had  it  in  its  power  to 
shorten  it;  and  so.  along  with  exposure,  we  find  the  bury- 
ing, or  the  killing,  or  even  the  devouring  of  the  aged  and 
sick,  as  numberless  examples  from  Herodotus  down  to 
modern  times  attest.  Indeed  primitive  man  was  able  to 
look  upon  the  solenm  performance  of  this  horrible  act  as 
a  behest  of  piety.-" 

When  we  see  how  this  unbroken  nomadic  life  forced 
man  to  devote  his  whole  activity  to  the  securing  of  food, 

'"Lippert.  as  above,  pp,  J20ff.,  has  treated  the  subject  so  exhaus- 
tively thai  I  may  nfrain  ironi  citiriK  examples.  Cotnp.  also  Fritsch, 
PP-   ll6,  ,^.i4,  ,?5i;    Wait/,  :i>  al)uve,  II,  p.  401. 

■■■"Comp  the  examples  cited  by  Lippert,  p.  ijj,  and  Martins,  as 
above,  p.  I2().  Also  l-:hrenreich,  lieitrdge  s.  V'olkcrkundi'  Brasil,  pp. 
(y-i-yo.-  W'.-iit;'.  .Ts  :ibi!Vf,    I.  ;i     i.«4)       .'r-'r.;.;    '.-.     )■,.'.':!•/-.,'    {\t-\----~  \.  '■.   161. 


PRJMlTiyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


n 


and  forbade  the  concurrent  development  of  those  feelings 
which  we  regard  as  the  most  natural,  and  how  it  even  .suc- 
ceeded in  giving  the  appearance  of  religious  duty  to  what 
we  consider  the  most  abominable  crime,  we  begin  to  con- 
ceive how  loose  must  have  been  the  personal  bond  that 
held  together  those  little  roving  groups  of  human  beings. 
Sexual  intercourse  could  not  grow  to  be  such  a  bond;  for 
what  we  call  love  was  entirely  wanting  in  it.^'  Domestic 
life,  the  conception  of  property  and  labour  in  common 
were  as  good  as  non-existent.  These  could  originate  only 
when  the  circle  of  wants  advanced  beyond  .he  mere  food 
requirement.  But  this  took  a  much  longer  time  than  the 
majority  are  wi:!ing  to  admit.  The  needs  of  primitive  peo- 
ples with  regard  to  clothing  and  house-she'ter  are  most 
markedly  of  an  altogether  >eci.'ndary  na:i;re. 

Turning  now  to  the  no  less  common  characteristic  of 
improzidcnce.  we  must  cenainly  at  fir^t  glance  be  struck 
with  astonishment.  One  wr.iiid  think  that  hunger,  which 
often  brings  such  great  torture  to  the  savage.  wuuM  of 
itself  have  been  sufficient  to  induce  him  to  store  up  tur 
future  use  the  food  that  at  time-  he  ix)~-e-se-  in  super- 
abundance. But  the  observation-  tliat  ha.c  lieen  made 
all  indicate  that  he  never  thinks  of  that.  "  They  are  not 
accustomed."  says  Heckewelder --  of  the  North  American 
Indians.  "  to  laying  in  -tire-  of  provision-  exce[)t  -unie 
Indian  corn,  dry  beans,  and  a  few  other  articles.  Hence 
they  are  -nmetimes  reduced  to  great  -trai:-.  and  are  not 
seldom  in  absolute  want  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  e-peciallv 

^  The    many    wnttr-    whu    write    Ti'^Aadays    about    the    family    pay 


j  wn-cn  prr,:n;ncrice  lias 


altogether  too  httie  attention  to  th;«  p'.int.  t' 

juniy  been  jfiven  by  Lubboek.  a?  ab..',e.  pp.  ;.;  tT.  In  the  -ame  way 
they  overlooked  the  connection  between  the  tarnily  and  ;i;e  econ..my 
of  the  honti      'Comp    p.  lo  above.  —  F'^r>,' 

"Heckewelder.  Induui  XaiLf.s.  t;c,     .\ew  edition   (Phi;.   i88n.  pp. 
io8.  212  (Memoirs  rA  Hi-r    .Soc    >_ '  Penn  .  vn]    121. 


i8 


PRlMlTiyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


in  the  time  of  war."  And  of  the  South  American  tribes 
another  observer  reports:^'  "  It  is  contrary  to  their  na- 
ture to  be  in  possession  of  food-suppHes  for  longer  than 
one  day  at  most."  With  many  negro  tribes  it  is  looked 
upon  as  improper  to  store  up  food  for  future  need,  which 
belief,  it  is  true,  they  base  upon  the  superstition  that  the 
fragments  left  over  may  attract  spirits.^* 

Where  these  peoples,  through  the  short-sighted  greed 
of  gain  of  Europeans,  are  placed  in  possession  of  modern 
weapons,  they  usually  work  incredible  havoc  with  the  game 
in  their  hunting-grounds.  The  extermination  of  tiie 
boundless  buffalo  herds  of  North  America  is  well  known. 
*'  The  greatest  quantities  of  meat  were  left  lying  unused 
in  the  thickets,"  only  for  the  natives  in  winter-time,  when 
deep  snow  prevented  hunting,  to  fall  a  prey  to  awful 
hunger,  in  which  even  the  bark  of  trees  and  the  roots  of 
grass  were  not  despised.  And  to-day  the  natives  of  Africa, 
in  districts  where  they  carry  on  a  profitable  trade  with 
Europeans,  are  ruthlessly  destroying  ihe  sources  of  their 
incomes,  the  elephant  and  the  caoutchouc-tree. 

Even  among  the  more  advanced  tribes  and  individuals 
this  characteristic  tloes  not  fail.  "  When  the  carriers  re- 
ceived fresh  rations."  relates  P.  Pogge.-*"'  "  I  am  certain 
that  they  lived  l>etter  for  the  first  few  days  than  I  did.  The 
best  goats  and  fowl  were  devoured.  If  I  gave  them  rations 
for  a  fortnight,  the  rule  was  to  consume  them  in  riotous 
living  (luring  the  first  three  or  four  days,  only  afterwards 
either  to  steal  from  the  supply-trains,  to  beg  from  me,  or 
to  go  hungry."  In  Wadai  everything  that  remains  over 
from  the  snhan's  tabic  is  burie<l,^^  and  at  the  sacrificial 

"  Appun,  I'nter  den  Tropen,  p.  ,365. 

''  I.ippert.  ns  nhdvc,  I,  pp.  .VJ-40. 

"As  above,   p.    14;    conip.   p.   6.     Also  Wissniann,    Wolf.   etc.   Im 
Itrncrn  Afrikas.  p.  29. 

"  Nachtiira!.  Sahara  u.  Sudan.  III.  p.  2,?o. 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS.  19 

feasts  of  the  Indians  the  guests  were  obliged  to  eat  up  their 
meat  and  bread  clean.  "  Overloading  of  the  stomach  and 
vomiting  are  not  unusual  on  such  occasions."  -*• 

Closely  connected  with  this  waste  of  supplies  is  the  use 
that  primitive  man  makes  of  his  time.    It  is  entirely  errone- 
ous, though  customary,  to  imagine  that  primitive  people 
are  particularly  expert  in  measuring  time  uy  the  position 
of  the  sun.    They  do  not  measure  time  at  all.  and  accord- 
ingly do  not  make  divisions  in  it.     No  primitive  people 
observe   fixed   meal-times,   according  to   which   civilized 
man  regulates  his  time  for  work.^*    Even  such- a  relatively 
advanced  tribe  as  the  Bedouins  has  no  conception  of  time. 
They  eat  when  they  are  hungry.    Livingstone  in  one  place 
calls  Africa  "  the  blissful  region  where  time  is  absolutely 
of  no  account  and  where  men  may  sit  down  and  rest  them- 
selves when  they  are  tired."  •''«   "  Even  the  most  trivial  work, 
though  it  is  urgently  necessary,  is  postponed  by  the  negro 
to  as  late  a  date  as  possible.     The  native  dreams  away 
the  day  in  laziness  and  idleness,  although  he  knows  quite 
well  that  for  the  night  he  needs  his  draught  of  water 
and  his  log  of  wood;  nevertheless  until  sundown  he  will 
certainly  not  disturb  himself,  and  onlv  then,  or  perhaps 
not  before  darkness,  will  he  hnally  procure  himself  the 
necessaries."  3' 

In  these  words  we  have  touched  upon  the  reproach  of 
mertia  to  which   primitive  man  is  universally  subject." 

='Hcckewelder.  as  above,  p.  213.  [Dr.  Biicher.  quoting  from  the 
German  translafon,  has  evidently  mistaken  the  meaning  of  the  pas- 
sage c.ted.  The  vomiting  and  fasting  referred  to  by  Heckewelder  are 
profKiratory  to  the  ceremonies,  the  vomiting  being  seh-induced.-ED  ] 

^Comp.  VV.  VVun.lt,  /:^/„V.-.  I  (London.  i8g;),  pp.  j;,., 

^^  hxtedit.  to  the  Zambesi  (N'ew  York,  1866),  p.  104. 

"^\\.  Junker's  Travels  in  Africa;   comp.  Eng,  trans.,  II,  p    168 
^or  details  see   my  work  Arbeit  u.  Rhytlmus  (2d   ed..    Leipzig 


^Ri* 


90 


PRIMlTiyp.   ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


What  has  here  appeared  to  observers  as  laziness  is  again 
lack  of  forethought,  Hving  for  the  moment.  Why  should 
the  savage  exert  himself  when  once  his  wants  are  satisfied, 
particularly  when  he  is  no  longer  hungr)?  This  does  not 
imply  that  he  is  inactive.  With  his  wretched  facilities  the 
individual  often  performs  on  the  whole  as  much  work  as 
the  individual  civilized  man;  but  he  does  no'  perform  it 
regularly,  nor  in  ordered  succession,  but  by  i.  and  starts, 
when  necessity  forces  him  to  it,  or  a  feeling  of  exaltation 
takes  possession  of  him,  and  even  then  not  as  a  serious 
duty  of  life,  but  rather  in  a  playful  fashion. 

In  general,  primitive  man  follows  only  the  prompting  of 
the  moment;  his  conduct  is  purely  impulsive,  mere  reflex 
action,  so  to  speak.  The  nearer  his  wants  and  their  satis- 
faction lie  together,  the  better  he  feels.  Primitive  man  is 
a  child;  he  thinks  not  of  the  future,  nor  of  the  past;  he 
forgets  easily,  each  new  pression  blots  out  its  predeces- 
sor. All  the  sufferings  of  life,  \*hich  he  has  to  experience 
so  often,  can  scarcely  cloud  for  a  moment  his  naturally 
cheerful  temperament.  "Of  the  New  Caleu  i  'ans.  Fijians, 
Tahitians,  and  New  Zealanders  we  read  that  they  are  al- 
ways laughing  and  joking.  Throughout  Africa  the  negro 
has  the  same  trait,  and  of  other  races,  in  other  lands,  the 
descriptions  of  various  travellers  are:  'full  of  fun  and  merri- 
ment,' full  of  life  and  spirits."  '  merry  and  talkative,'  '  sky- 
larking in  all  ways,'  '  boisterous  gaiety,'  '  laughing  immod- 
erately at  trifles."  ""  ^^ 

It  is  significant,  as  has  often  been  remarked,  that  natives 
of  Africa  lose  their  cheerfulness  when  they  have  been  for 
some  time  in  the  service  of  Europeans,  and  become  sullen 
and  morose.    The  explanation  of  Fritsch  ^*  is  that  servants 

"  Spencer,  as  above.  §  34.    Considerable  material  also  in  his  Descrip- 
tive Sociology  in  the  chapter  on  '"  Moral  Sentiments." 
**  As  above,  p.  56. 


PRIMITiyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


31 


of  this  kind  gradually  acquire  from  their  masters  the  habit 
of  troubling  themselves  about  things  to  come,  and  that 
their  temperament  cannot  endure  engrossment   in   such 


cares 


38 


Such  a  hand-to-mouth  existence  cannot  be  burdened 
with  conceptions  of  valw,  which  always  presupposes  an  act 
of  judgment,  an  estimation  of  the  future.     It  is  well  known 
how  in  America  and  Africa  the  natives  often  sold  their  land 
to  foreign  colonists  for  a  gaudy  trifle,  a  few  glass  beads  of 
no  value  according  to  our  economic  standards;  and  even 
to-day  the  negro,  though  he  stands  no  longer  at  the  lowest 
stage,  is  in  many  instances  ready  to  give  away  any  piece 
of  his  property,  no  matter  how  important  it  may  be  for  his 
existence,  if  he  is  offered  some  glittering  bauble  that  hap- 
pens to  catch  his  eye.^"     On  the  other  hand  his  covetous- 
ness  knows  no  bounds,  and  it  is  a  constant  complaint  of 
travellers  that  amid  all  the  hospitality  shown  them  they 
are  simply  plundered,  because  ever>'  village  chieftain  de- 
sires to  be  presented  with  everything  he  sees.''      Here, 
again,  is  that  naive  egoism  in  its  complete  regardlessness 
of  self  and  others,  that  unbounded  covetousness  which  has 
nothing  in  common  with  the  love  of  gain  of  economic 
man.    The  impression  of  the  moment  is  ever  the  sole  con- 
trolling force:   what  is  further  removed  is  not  thought  of. 
Primitive  man  is  incapable,  it  would  seem,  of  entertaining 


"  Reference  may  also  be  made  to  the  not  infrequent  examples  of 
savages  who  had  been  brought  up  under  civilized  conditions  volun- 
tarily returning  to  their  tribes  and  to  the  complete  savagery  of  their 
people.  Comp.  Peschel.  as  above,  pp.  152-3:  Fritsch,  as  above,  p. 
+2.3;    K.  E.  Jung  in  Petermanns  Mitth..  XXIV  (1878),  p.  67. 

"Comp.  Fritsch.  as  above,  pp.  ,?05-C. 

"Says  Burton,  as  above,  p.  490:  "In  trading  with  [the  African] 
...  all  display  of  wealth  must  be  avoided.  A  man  who  would  pur- 
chase the  smallest  article  avoids  showing  anything  beyond  its  equiva- 
lent." 


22 


PRIMITII^E  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


two  thoughts  at  the  same  time  and  of  weighing  the  one 
against  the  other;  he  is  always  possessed  by  one  alone  and 
follows  it  with  startling  consistency. 

The  collection  of  exi)eriences,  the  transmission  of  knowl- 
edge, is  therefore  exceedingly  difficult,  and  therein  lies  the 
chief  reason  why  such  peoples  can  remain  at  the  same 
stage  for  thousands  of  years  without  showing  any  appre- 
ciable advance.  The  acquisition  of  the  first  elements  of 
civilization  is  often  conceived  as  an  easy  matter;  it  is  im- 
agined that  every  invention,  every  advance  in  house-con- 
struction, in  the  art  of  clothing,  in  the  use  of  tools,  that  an 
individual  makes,  must  pass  over  as  an  imperishable  treas- 
ure into  the  conunon  possession  of  the  tribe  and  there 
continue  to.  fructify.  Tlie  invention  of  pottery,  the  taming 
of  domestic  animals,  the  smelting  of  iron  ore  have  even 
been  made  the  beginnings  of  entirely  new  epochs  of  civil- 
ization. 

Yet  how  imperfectly  does  such  a  conception  appreciate 
the  conditions  under  which  primitive  man  lives!  We  may 
indeed  assume  tliat  he  possesses  a  peculiar  fondness  for  the 
stone  T\t  uliicli  with  endless  exertion  he  has  formed  in  the 
course  perhaps  of  a  whole  year,  and  that  it  seems  to  him 
like  ri  fK.rt  of  his  own  being;""*  but  it  is  a  mistake  to  think 
that  the  preoinis  jK)ssession  will  now  pass  to  chiMreti 
nnd  children's  children,  and  thus  constitute  the  basis  for 
f'jrther  advance.  However  certain  it  is  that  in  connection 
with  such  thinL;s  the  iirst  notions  of  "mine  and  thine"  are 
develoi.ed,  yet  many  are  the  observations  itidicating  that 
these  conceptions  do  not  go  beyc»n<l  the  individual,  and  tliat 
they  perisli  with  him.  Tlw  f't'sscssiDu  f^usscs  into  the  f^ravc 
Ti'/V//  the  f'osscssor,  whose  personal  equipment  it  fonned  in 
lii'e.    That  is  a  custom  which  is  met  with  in  all  parts  of  the 


'Comp.  Arbeit  u.  Rhythmus  (jj  rd  ),  p.  'rt. 


PRlMITjyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


23 


earth,  and  of  which  many  peoples*  have  preserved  traces 
even  down  into  civ'lized  times. ■'*'* 

In  the  first  p;'.:c  ::  i^  piovaient  among  all  American  peo- 
ples to  such  at  extent  that  t!.e  survivors  are  often  left  in 
extreme  need.  '  'ic  a!>ori{j:;nes  of  California,  who  are 
among  the  lo«\.it  ;>et-j,le  o^  iH'.ir  rafe,  place  along  with 
the  dead  all  the  weapons  and  utensils  \vhich  he  had  made 
use  of  in  life.  "  It  is  a  curious  paraphernalia,"  says  an  ob- 
server, "that  follows  the  Wintum  into  the  grave:  knives, 
forks,  vinegar-jars,  empty  whiskey-bottles,  preserve-jars, 
bows,  arrows,  etc.;  and  if  the  dead  has  been  an  industrious 
housewife,  a  few  baskets  of  acorns  arc  scattered  over 
as  well."  "  At  the  grave  of  the  Tehuelche  "  (Patagonia), 
runs  another  account,  "  ail  his  horses,  dogs,  and  other  ani- 
mals are  killed.  ..id  his  poncho,  his  ornaments,  his  bolas 
and  implements  of  every  kind  arc  brought  together  into  a 
heap  and  burned."  And  of  a  third  and  still  lower  tribe, 
the  I'.ororo  in  Brazil,  a  recent  very  reliable  observer  says:  ^'^ 
"  -^  great  loss  befalls  a  fanuly  when  one  of  its  menibe  s 
dies.  For  everything  that  the  dead  man  used  is  burned, 
thrown  into  the  river,  or  packed  in  with  the  corpse  in  order 
that  the  departed  spirit  may  have  no  occasion  whatever  to 
return.  The  cabin  is  dien  completely  gutted.  I'.nt  the 
surviving  members  of  the  family  receive  fresh  i)rcsents; 
bows  and  arrows  are  made  for  them,  and  when  a  jaguar 
is  killed,  the  skin  is  given  to  the  brother  of  the  last  deceased 
woman  or  to  the  uncle  of  the  last  deceased  man." 

Among  the  Ragobos  in  southern  Mindanao  (one  of  the 

"Comp.  in  general,  .Andrcc,  lithnogr.  I\j,aiklcn  u.  I'crgkiche  (Siutt- 
Kart,  i8;«),  pp.  A)-:\  Scluirl/,  Urundru:  rtih-r  linlstch.  Gcsch.  d. 
iicldcs  (Weimar,  i8<)S).  pp.  sfi  IT  ;  i'aii.knw.  Ztsclir.  d.  Gts.  f.  Erdkunde 
7U  Ucrlin.  XXXI.  jni.  i-.'-< 

"  K.  vdii  ilcn  .'^tciiitti.  i  iiirr  din  Witunolkcni  Knisilints  ( .'d  id.), 
r-  .^>^).  Ci'inp.  .-ilio  i:hrenrui!'..  /'.^.'njcf  :ur  i  .HkcrLun.U'  Hrjsilinif, 
\'V    ,U),  (•(,;  lltckcwtldtr.  a-  above,  pp.  .711-1,  .',-4-5. 


r 


24 


PRIMITIVE  ECOS'OMIC  CONDiTlONS. 


Philippines)  the  dead  man  is  buried  in  iiis  best  clothes,  and 
with  a  slave,  who  h  killed  for  the  purpose.  "  The  cooking- 
utensiLs  that  the  deceased  used  during  his  lifetime  are  filled 
with  rice  and  placed,  along  with  his  betel-sacks,  upon  the 
grave;  his  other  things  are  left  in  the  house  untouched. 
On  penalty  of  death  no  one  may  henceforth  enter  either 
the  house  or  the  burial-place;  and  it  is  equally  forbidden 
to  cut  from  the  trees  surrounding  the  house.  The  house 
itself  is  allowed  to  go  to  ruin."  ** 

In  Australia  and  .\frica  the  custom  is  very  common  for 
all  the  stores  of  the  deceased  to  be  eaten  up  by  the  assem- 
bly of  the  mourners;  in  other  parts  the  utensils  are  de- 
stroyed, while  the  food  is  thrown  away.  Many  negro 
tribes  bury  the  dead  in  the  hut  in  which  he  lived,  and  leave 
the  dwelling,  now  deserted  by  the  survivors,  to  decay; 
others  destroy  the  hut.^'-  If  a  chieftain  dies,  the  whole  vil- 
lage migrates:  and  this  is  true  even  of  the  principal  towns 
of  the  more  inip<jrtant  kingdoms,  such  as  those  of  the 
Muata-Yamwo  and  the  Kasembe.  In  the  Lunda  kingdom 
the  old  royal  Kipanga  is  biirned  down,  and  a  new  pro- 
visional one  at  once  erected,  for  which  the  newly  chosen 
ruler  has  to  kindle  a  fresh  fire  by  rubl)ing  together  pieces 
of  wood,  as  it  is  not  permissible  to  use  the  old  fire  any 
longer.  The  principal  or  residence  town  changes  its  loca- 
tion with  each  new  ruler."    .\mong  the  ancient  Peruvians, 

*'  SclLidenlxTt;  in  tlie  Ztsclir.  f.  Rthnol.,  XVII  (188.S).  )>p  12-1.1.  Tlie 
same  thiriK  is  found  in  Ilalam.ihora,  p.  8.i;  and  anmng  tlie  lull  tribes 
of  India.  JellinKhaus  in  llic  same  review,  III,  pp.  372,  374. 

"  Fxaniples  may  be  found  in  M.  Buchrver,  Kainerun,  p  28;  Frilseh, 
as  above,  p.  5.^5;  Bastian,  I.oangokiiste,  I.  j)  1(14;  I-iviiiKstoiu',  as 
above,  p.  158  From  /\ustraiia:  Parkinson,  Im  lUsmarck-Archif>el,  pp. 
102-.1:  Ztscbr.  f.  I'"tlinol..  XXI,  p,  23;  Kiibary.  filhiwgr.  Hcitrdnc  sur 
Kfntltnij  d  KiirJiii.  Inseigruppc  u.  Nachbarschaft  ( Reriiii,  1885).  pp. 
70-71,  iiiiti,'. 

'*  I'liUKe.  ,■!■.  above,  jip.  2-'8,  2,54,  LivinKstone  in  I'etermanns  Mittli., 
XXT  (187s),  p    104. 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


25 


.3 


as  well,  the  conception  prevailed  that  with  each  new  Inca 
the  world,  so  to  speak,  began  anew.  The  palaces  of  the 
dead  Inca,  with  all  tlieir  stores  of  wealth,  were  closed  for 
ever;  the  ruler  for  the  time  l)eing  never  made  use  of  the 
treasures  that  his  ancestors  had  amassed. 

Though  we  see  from  this  that  the  origin  and  preserva- 
tion of  the  first  elements  of  civilization  among  primitive 
peoples  were  attended  with  the  greatest  difficulties,  and 
that  the  possibility  of  rising  to  better  conditions  of  exist- 
ence and  higher  modes  of  life  could  not  even  be  conceived 
by  them,  yet  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  observations 
that  have  been  sifted  and  presented  here  have  been  taken 
from  peoples  of  very  varied  character  and  different  cultural 
stages.  To  raise  himself  of  his  own  strengtli  to  the  plane 
of  the  Tongan  or  Tahitian.  the  Australian  of  the  continent 
would  probably  have  required  many  thousands  of  years; 
and  a  similar  gulf  separates  the  Bushman  from  the  Congo 
nesrro  and  Wanvamweza.  But  this  verv  fact,  it  seem .  .-^ 
me.  speaks  for  the  persistence  of  the  presumptive  psycn.v: 
conditions  under  which  the  satisfaction  of  the  wants  of  un- 
civilized man  is  accomplished:  and  we  are  undoubf^dly 
justified  in  tracing  back  the  whole  circle  of  this  cla.s  of 
conceptions  to  a  condition  that  must  have  prevailed 
among  mankind  ior  a-oiis  before  tribes  and  peoples  could 
have  originated. 

From  all  that  we  know  of  it.  this  condition  means  ex- 
actly the  opposite  of  "  economy."  For  economy  implies 
always  a  community  of  men  rendered  possil)le  by  the  pos- 
session of  property;  it  i^  a  taking  counsel,  a  caring  not 
only  for  the  moment  but  also  for  the  future,  a  careful  divi- 
sion and  suitable  bestowal  of  time;  economy  means  work, 
valuation  of  things,  regulation  of  their  use.  accumulation 
of  wealth,  transmission  of  the  achievements  of  civilization 
from  generation   to   generation.     And   even   among   the 


i    I: 


s6 


PRIMITiyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


higher  primitive  peoples  we  have  found  all  this  widely 
wanting;  among  the  lower  races  we  have  hardly  met 
■with  its  faint  beginnings.  Let  us  strike  out  of  the 
life  of  the  Bushman  or  of  the  Veddah  the  use  of  fire, 
and  bow  and  arrow,  and  nothing  remains  but  a  life 
made  up  of  the  individual  search  for  food.  Each  indi- 
vidual has  to  rely  entirely  upon  himself  for  his  sustenance. 
Naked  and  unarmed  he  roams  with  his  fellows,  like  cer- 
tain species  of  wild  animals,  through  a  limited  stretch  of 
territory-,  and  uses  his  feet  for  holding  and  climbing  as 
dexterously  as  he  uses  his  hands.'*^  All,  male  and  female, 
devour  raw  what  they  catch  with  their  hands  or  dig  out  of 
the  ground  with  their  nails:  smaller  animals,  roots,  and 
fruits.  Mow  they  unite  in  little  bands  or  larger  herds; 
now  they  separate  again,  according  to  the  richness  of  the 
pasturage  or  hunting-ground.  But  these  unions  do  not 
develop  into  communities,  nor  do  they  lighten  the  exist- 
ence of  the  individual. 

This  picture  may  not  have  many  charms  for  him  who 
shares  the  civilization  of  the  present;  hut  we  are  simply 
forced  by  the  material  empirically  gathered  together  so  to 
construct  it.  Nor  are  any  of  its  lines  imaginative.  We 
have  eliminated  from  the  life  of  the  lowest  tribes  only  what 
admittedly  belongs  to  civilization — the  use  of  weapons  and 
of  fire.  Though  we  were  obliged  to  admit  that  even 
among  the  higher  primitive  peoples  there  is  exceeding 
much  that  is  non-economic,  that  at  all  events  the  con- 
scious application  of  the  economic  principle  forms  with 
them  rather  the  exception  than  the  rule,  we  .shall  not  be 
able  in  the  case  of  the  so-called  "  lower  nomads  "  and  their 
predecessors  just  sketched  to  make  use  of  the  notion  of 
economy  at  all.    With  them  we  have  to  fix  a  pre-econoniic 

•*  R.   Andrte,   Iter  Fuss  als  Greiforgan,  in   his  lithnugr.   Parallclftt  u. 
Vcrgl.  (New  Series),  pp.  228  flf. 


PRIMlTiyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


27 


Stage  of  development,  that  is  not  yet  economy.  As  every 
child  must  have  his  name,  we  will  call  this  the  stage  of  in- 
dividual search  for  food. 

How  economic  activity  was  evolved  from  the  individual 
search  for  food  can  to-day  hardly  be  imagined.  The 
thought  may  suggest  itself  that  the  tUiTiing-point  must 
be  where  production  with  a  more  distant  end  in  view  takes 
the  place  of  the  mere  seizing  of  the  gifts  of  nature  for  im- 
mediate enjoyment,  and  where  work,  as  the  intelligent 
application  of  physical  power,  replaces  the  instinctive 
activity  of  the  bodily  organs.  Ver\-  little  would  be  gained, 
however,  by  this  purely  theoretical  distinction.  Labour 
among  primitive  peoples  is  something  very  ill-defined. 
The  further  we  follow  it  back,  the  more  closely  it  ap- 
proaches in  form  and  substance  to  play. 

In  all  probability  there  are  instincts  similar  to  those  that 
are  found  among  the  more  intelligent  of  the  lower  animals, 
that  impel  man  to  extend  his  activities  beyond  the  mere 
search  for  food,  especially  the  instinct  for  imitating  and 
for  experimenting.^"  The  taming  of  domestic  animals,  for 
example,  begins  not  with  the  useful  animals,  but  with  such 
species  as  man  keeps  merely  for  amusement  or  the  worship 
of  gods.  Industrial  activity  seems  cvc-ywhere  to  start 
with  the  painting  of  the  body,  tattooing,  piercing  or  other- 
wise disfiguring  sei)arate  parts  of  the  body,  and  grad- 
ually to  advance  to  the  production  of  ornaments,  masks, 
drawing  on  bark,  petrograms,  and  similar  play-products. 
In  these  things  there  is  everywhere  displayed  a  peculiar 
tendency  to  imitate  the  animals  whicli  the  savage  iiu-ets  with 
in  his  immediate  surroundings,  and  which  he  looks  upon 
as  his  equals.  The  partly  prehistoric  rock  dmwings  and 
carvings  of  the  Bushmen,  the  Indians,  and  the  Australians 


Ton-.p   K.  Groof.,  Die  Spide  d.  Ticre  (Jena.  1896"). 


23 


PRlMITiyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


represent  chiefly  animals  and  men;*®  pottery,  wood-carv- 
ing, and  even  wicker-work  begin  with  the  production  of 
animal  fornis.^"  Even  when  the  advance  is  made  to  the 
construction  of  objects  of  daily  use  (pots,  stools,  etc.),  the 
animal  figure  is  retained  with  remarkable  regularity;''* 
and  lastly,  in  the  dances  of  primitive  peoples,  the  imita- 
tion of  the  motions  and  the  cries  of  animals  plays  the  prin- 
cipal part.''"  All  regularly  sustained  activity  finally  takes 
on  a  rhythmir  form  and  becomes  fused  with  music  and 
song  in  an  indivisible  whole.^'^ 

It  is  accordingly  in  play  that  technical  skill  is  developed, 
and  it  turns  to  the  useful  only  very  gradually.^*  The  or- 
der of  progression  hitherto  accepted  must  therefore  be 
just  reversed;  play  is  older  than  work,  art  older  than  pro- 


"Andree.  Elhnogr.  Parallelen  u.  I'ergleiche,  pp.  258-299.  Ehrenreich, 
as  above,  pp.  46-7. 

"  Comp.  the  interesting  accounts  by  K.  v.  d.  Steinen,  as  above, 
pp.  2JI  ff.,  and  particularly  pp.  241  ff. 

"  Abundant  examples  are  afforded  by  every  ethnographic  pictur«*- 
collection.  The  incredulous  are  invited  to  take  a  glance  at  the  fol- 
lowing works:  J.  Boas,  The  Central  Eskimo  (Washington,  1888); 
Sixth  Annual  Report  of  the  Bureau  of  Ethnology  to  the  Secretary 
of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  1884-5;  Ethnogr.  Beschrijving  fan  de 
West-  •!  Xonrdkust  ran  Ncderlandsch  Xiew  Guinea,  by  F.  S.  A.  de  Clercq 
and  J.  D.  E.  ScIinieltT:  (Leiden,  iSg^l;  Joest,  Ethnogr.  atis  Guyana 
(Suppl.  to  vol.  5  of  the  Intern,  .\rchiv  fiir  Ethnogr.);  and  again  Von 
den  Steinen,  as  above,  pp.  26r  ff.  Conip.  also  7ritsch,  as  above,  p.  7,3; 
Schweinfurth.  The  Heart  of  .Urica  (.vl  ed.,  London.  1878).  I,  pp.  129- 
130;  and  Grosi^o,  Pie  Anfange  d.  Kunst.  Chaps.  \'I  and  VII. 

"  Grosse.  as  abovi-,  pp.  2o8-(), 

"  Reference  must  here  agniti  be  niaiio  to  my  work  on  Arbeit  u. 
Rhythmus. 

'* "  On  exaniinatioti  of  the  primitive  tools  [of  ihe  Papuans]  .  .  . 
we  see  that  there  is  not  a  single  one  which  does  not  hear  testimony  by 
S(inu'  little  design  or  ornament  to  the  good  taste  of  its  maker,  not  an 
article  which  does  not  show  some  trifling  accessories  surpassing  mere 
utility  and  present  in  it  solely  for  beauty's  sake." — Semon,  In  the 
Austral.  Bush.  p.  400. 


PRlMlTll^E  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


29 


I 


duction  for  use.'^''  Even  when  among  the  higher  primi- 
tive peoples  the  two  elements  begin  to  separate  from  each 
other,  the  dance  still  precedes  or  follows  every  more  im- 
portant work  (war-,  hunting-,  harvest-dance),  and  song  ic- 
companies  work. 

Just  as  economy,  the  further  we  have  traced  it  back- 
wards in  the  development  of  peoples,  has  during  our  in- 
quiry assumed  more  and  more  the  form  of  non-economy,  so 
work  also  has  finally  resolved  itself  into  its  opposite  (Nicht- 
arbeit).  And  we  should  probably  have  the  same  experi- 
ence with  all  the  more  important  phenomena  of  economy, 
if  we  were  to  continue  our  inquiries  regarding  <^hem.  One 
thing  alone  appears  permanent — consumption.  Wants 
man  always  had,  and  wants  must  be  satisfied.  But  even 
our  wants,  considered  from  an  economic  point  of  view, 
exist  only  in  very  small  part  naturally;  it  is  only  in  the 
matter  of  bodily  nourishment  that  our  consumption  is  a 
necessity  of  nature;  all  else  is  the  product  of  civilization, 
the  result  of  the  free  creative  activity  of  the  human  mind. 
Without  this  activity  man  would  always  have  remained  a 
root-digging,  fiuit-eating  animal. 

Under  these  circumstances  we  must  forego  the  attempt 
to  fix  upon  some  definite  point  at  which  simple  search  for 
food  ceases  and  economy  begins,  in  the  history  of  human 
civilization  there  are  no  turning-points;  here  everything 
grows  and  decays  as  with  the  plant;  the  fixed  or  station- 
ary is  only  an  abstraction  which  we  need  in  order  to  make 
visible  to  our  dim  eye  the  wonders  of  nature  and  humanity. 
Indeed  economy  itself,  like  all  else,  is  subject  to  constant 
changes.  When  it  first  presents  itself  in  history,  it  appears 
as  a  form  of  communal  life  based  upon  material  posses- 


m 


"  [The  general  ctlmograpliic  aspect  nf  art  is.  of  course,  another  and 
wider  problem  than  the  one  involved  in  this  conclusion  with  regard 
;0  "first  things. "  —  Ed.] 


!      * 


30  PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 

sions.  guided  by  definite  rules  of  conduct,  and  closely  con- 
nected with  the  personal  and  moral  community  of  life  of 
the  family.'*^  It  was  under  this  form  that  it  was  seen  by 
the  people  who  first  fixed  its  characteristics  in  language. 
Landlord  is  still  in  Middle  High  German  synonymous 
with  husband  (Wirt,  Ehemann),  landlady  is  wife  (Wirtin, 
Ehefrau),  and  the  word  economy,  derived  from  the  Greek, 
is  formed  in  a  similar  way. 

We  may  therefore  assume  the  existence  of  economy  as 
certain  where  we  find  co-dwelling  communities  that  pro- 
cure and  utilize  things  adapted  to  their  needs  according  to 
the  dictates  of  the  economic  principle.  Such  a  condition 
is  certainly  fulfilled  by  the  higher  primitive  peoples,  even 
though  their  carrying  out  of  the  economic  principle  always 
remains  incomplete.  But  there  is  nevertheless  much  that 
still  recalls  the  pre-economic  period  of  individual  search 
for  food;   economy  has  still,  so  to  speak,  gaps  in- various 

places. 

Among  all  peoples  of  a  lower  cultural  stage  the  dis- 
tribution of  labour  between  the  two  sexes  is  firmly  fixed 
bv  custom,  although  difiference  of  natural  aptitude  seems 
by  no  means  to  have  been  the  sole  determining  factor. 
At  least  it  cannot  be  maintained  that  in  all  cases  the  lighter 
share  of  the  work  fell  to  the  weaker  sex.  While  in  the 
normal  domestic  economy  of  civilized  nations  we  have  a 
cross-section,  so  to  speak,  which  assigns  to  the  man  the 
productive  work  and  to  the  woman  the  superintendence 
of  consumption,  the  economy  of  these  peoples  seems  to  be 
divided  in  longitudinal  section.     Both  sexes  take  part  in 

"  K.  Grosse  has  in  his  recent  book  entitled  Die  Formal  d.  Familie 
u.  die  Fflrmen  d.  Wirtschafi  (Leipzig,  i8g6)  investigated  the  connection 
of  family  with  economic  forms.  In  doing  so  he  has,  for  the  economic 
side  of  the  \vori<.  adhered  to  the  altogetlicr  external  classification  into 
nomadic,  pastor.il,  and  agricultural,  but  has  scarcely  devoted  due  at- 
tention to  the  inner  cc^nnnii:-  life,  particularly  to  that  "f  the  household. 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


31 


production,  and  frequently  each  has  a  particular  depart- 
ment of  the  consumption  for  itself.  It  is  particularly  signif- 
icant in  this  connection  that  upon  the  woman  de  solves,  as  a 
rule,  the  jirocuring  and  preparing  of  the  vegetable  foods 
and  for  the  most  part  also  the  building  of  the  hut,  while 
hunting  and  the  working  up  of  the  products  of  the  chase 
fall  to  the  man.  If  cattle  are  kept,  the  tending  of  the  ani- 
mals, the  erection  of  inclosures  for  them,  the  milking,  etc., 
are  the  business  of  the  men.  This  division  is  often  so 
sharply  defined  that  we  might  almost  speak  of  a  cleavage 
of  the  family  economy  into  a  purely  male  and  a  purely 
female  economy. 

In  an  interesting  account  of  the  useful  plants  of  the 
Brazilian  Shingu  tribes,  K.  von  den  Stcincn  ''*  describes 
the  outcome  of  the  earlier  development  of  these  tribes  in 
the  following  words: 

"Man  followed  the  chase,  and  in  the  mean  time  woman  invented 
agriculture.  Here,  as  throughout  Brazil,  the  women  have  exclusive 
charge  not  otily  of  the  preparation  of  manioc  in  the  house  but  also 
of  its  cultivation.  Thty  clear  the  ground  of  weeds  with  pointed  sticks, 
place  in  position  the  stakes  with  which  the  manioc  is  planted,  and 
fetch  each  day  what  they  need,  carrying  it  home  in  heavily  laden 
wicker  baskets.  .  .  .  The  man  is  more  courageous  and  skilful;  to 
him  belong  the  chase  and  the  use  of  weapons.  Where,  then,  hunt- 
ing and  fishing  ^.  play  an  important  part,  the  woman  must  attend, 
as  far  as  a  division  of  labour  takes  place  at  all,  to  the  procuring,  trans- 
porting, and  preparing  of  the  food.  This  division  has  a  result  that  is 
not  sufticiently  appreciated,  namely,  that  the  woman  in  her  field  of 
labour  ac(iuires  special  knowledge  just  as  the  man  does  in  his.  This 
must  necessarily  hold  true  for  each  lower  or  higher  stage.  The 
counterpart  of  the  Indian  woman  cultivating  her  manioc  with  skill 
and  intelligence  is  already  found  in  the  purely  nomadic  state.  The 
wife  of  the  Bororo  vent  into  the  forest  armed  with  a  pointed  stick  to 
search  for  roots  and  tubers:  during  wanderings  through  the  camp- 
ing-ground, or  whenever  a  cot.ipany  of  Indians  changed  its  locality, 
sucli  hunting  fell  to  the  wor  .n,  while  the  man  tracked  the  game:  she 
clinib''d   the   tree   for   cocoanuis.    and   carried   heavy   loads    of   them 

'^Unier  d.  Naturi'olk.  Central-Brasil.,  pp.  206  ff. 


h      i 


32  PRIMlTiyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 

laboriously  home.  And  though  the  Indian  woman  was  the  slave  of 
her  husband,  this  relation  was  certainly  not  to  her  advantage  in  re- 
gard to  the  division  of  the  fish  and  meat;  she  still  had  to  depend 
upon  the  supply  of  vegetables  that  she  could  gather  for  herself.  On 
the  Shingu  the  men  made  ready  the  roast  and  broiled  fish  and  meat; 
the  women  baked  the  beijus  (manioc  cakes),  prepared  the  warm 
drinks,  cooked  the  fruits,  and  roasted  tht  cocoanuts.  What  other 
meaning  could  this  division  into  animal  cooking  for  the  men  and 
vegetable  cooking  for  the  women  have  than  that  each  of  the  sexes  had 
still  kept  to  its  original  sphere?" 

If  we  add  that  the  men  also  made  the  weapons  for  the 
chase,  and  that  hunting  and  fishing  were  the  source  whence 
they  drew  all  their  iinplements  for  cutting,  scraping,  polish- 
ing, piercing,  tracing,  and  carving,  while  the  women  pro- 
duced the  pottery  for  cooking,-'*''  we  have  for  each  sex  a 
naturally  defined  sphere  of  production  upon  which  all  their 
activity  is  independently  expended.  But  this  is  not  all.  The 
consumption  h  also  in  one  chief  particular  distinct:  there 
are  no  common  meals  in  the  family.  Each  individual  eats 
apart  from  the  rest,  and  it  is  looked  upon  as  improper  to 
partake  of  food  in  the  presence  of  others.*** 

Similar  characteristics  of  an  individual  economy  are  also 
found  among  the  North  American  Indians,  who  had  al- 
ready arrived  at  a  fully  developed  domestic  economy. 
While  they  know  nothing  whatever  of  a  special  ownership 

"  As  above,  pp.  I97  ff-.  217  ff-  3i8. 

"Von  den  Steinen,  as  above,  p.  69,  and  Ehrcnreich,  Bcitriige  s.  V'61- 
kerkunde  Brasil.,  p.  17:  "Etiquette  among  the  Karaya  demands  that 
each  one  shall  eat  by  himself  apart  from  the  others."  l.ating  alone 
is  almost  suggestive  of  the  animal.  The  savage  acts  like  the  dog, 
which  grows  cross  when  his  meal  is  disturbed.  Among  the  natives  of 
Borneo  "  the  men  usually  feed  alone,  attended  on  by  the  women,  and 
always  wash  their  mouths  out  when  they  have  finished  eating.  They 
are  very  particular  about  being  called  away  from  their  meals,  and  it 
takes  .  great  deal  to  make  a  man  set  about  doing  anything  before  he 
has  concluded  his  repast:  to  such  an  extent  is  this  practice  observed, 
that  it  is  considered  wrong  to  attack  even  an  enemy  whilst  he  is  eat- 
ing, but  the  moment  he  has  finished  it  is  legitimate  and  proper  to  fall 
upon  him."    Hose,  in  Juurii.  oi  Amhiop^l.  Inst.,  p.  i6o. 


PRlMITiyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


33 


of  the  soil,  "  there  is  nothing  in  an  Indian's  house  or  family 
without  its  particular  owner.  Every  individual  knows 
what  belongs  to  him,  from  the  horse  or  cow  down  to  the 
dog,  cat,  kitten,  and  little  chicken.  Parents  make  presents 
to  their  children,  and  they  in  return  to  their  parents.  A 
fatl  r  will  sometimes  ask  his  wife  or  one  of  his  children 
for  the  loan  of  a  horse  to  go  a-hunting.  For  a  litter  of 
kittens  or  brood  of  chickens  there  are  often  as  many  dif- 
ferent owners  as  there  are  individual  animals.  In  purchas- 
ing a  hen  with  her  brood  one  frequently  has  to  deal  for  it 
with  several  children."  ^^ 

"  In  cases  where  the  Indians  permitted  polygamy,  it  was 
customar)'  for  a  special  hut  to  be  erected  for  each  wife; 
among  tribes  dwelling  in  common-houses  each  wife  had  at 
least  her  special  fire."*® 

''  The  same  characteristics  are  presented  by  the  economy 
of  the  Polynesians  and  Micronesians,  except  that  here  fish- 
ing and  the  raising  of  smaller  live  stock  take  the  place  of 
hunting.  In  New  Pomerania  the  various  duties  are  strictly 
divided  between  the  men  and  boys  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  women  and  girls  on  the  other.^^  To  the  male  portion 
of  the  population  falls  the  labour  of  making  and  keep- 
ing in  repair  the  weapons  and  the  fishing-gear,  especially 
the  fishing-nets  and  the  ropes  necessary  for  them,  of  cast- 
ing the  nets  in  the  sea  and  caring  for  them  daily,  of  build- 
ing canoes,  erecting  huts,  and.  in  the  wooded  districts,  of 
felling  trees  and  clearing  away  the  roots  for  the  laying  out 
of  new  plantations,  as  well  as  of  protecting  them  by  en- 
closures against  wild  boars."  *" 


"  Heckewelder,  as  above,  p.  158. 
"VVaitz,  Anthropologic,  III,  p.  109. 
"Parkinson,  as  above,  pp.  113,  122. 

"These  labours  preparatory  to  the  cultivation  of  the  land  are  still 
often  performed  by  the  women.    Parkinson,  p.  118. 


34 


PRlMmVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


\    I 


Besides  haviriig  to  care  for  their  little  children  it  de- 
volves upon  the  women  to  prepare  the  food,  to  dig  and 
cultivate  the  ground,  to  raise  and  garner  the  produce  of  the 
field,  and  to  carry  the  heavily  laden  baskets  to  market- 
places miles  away. 

"  In  certain  kinds  of  work  both  men  and  women  take 
part.  To  these  belong  the  twisting  of  the  strong  basten 
cordage  of  which  the  fishing-nets  are  woven,  the  plaiting 
of  baskets  with  finely  cut  strips  of  rattan  and  padanus- 
leaves,  the  weaving  of  a  very  rough  and  coarse  stuff  called 
mal,  made  from  the  bark  of  the  broussonetia-tree,  in  which 
the  women  wrap  their  infants  to  protect  them  from  the 
cold." 

This  latter  is  very  significant:  we  have  here  to  do  with 
arrangements  for  the  transformation  of  materials,  such  as 
could  not  have  existed  in  the  period  of  individual  search 
for  food. 

Separate  preparation  of  food  for  men  and  women,  and 
separate  meals  are  also  met  with  in  the  South  Sea  regions. 
In  Fiji  the  men  prepare  such  kinds  of  food  as  can  be 
cooked  out  of  doors  by  means  of  heated  stones.  "  This  is 
confined  to-day  to  the  roasting  of  swine's  flesh;  formerly 
the  preparation  of  human  flesh  was  also  reserved  for  the 
men."  ^-  In  the  Palau  Islands  the  cooking  of  the  taro  and 
the  preparing  of  the  sweetened  foods  fell  to  the  lot  of  the 
women,  the  preparation  of  the  meats  to  the  men.*'^  In 
most  parts  of  Oceania  "  it  is  neither  permissible  for  women 
and  men  to  eat  in  common,  nor  for  the  men  to  eat  what 
the  women  have  prepared.  Eating  with  another  from  the 
same  dish  seems  to  be  avoided  with  almost  equal  scrupu- 
lousness." "■* 

*•  Biissler,  Siidsce-Bildcr,  pp.  226-7. 

"  Kubary,  as  above,  p.  17J. 

"  Ratzel,  V'olkerkundc,  I.  p.  240. 

"Separate;  meals  for  men  and  women;  Conip.  Stanley,  Ho-i;  t  ioitnd 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


35 


The  economy  of  many  negro  tribes  shows  a  Hke  arrange- 
ment ;  a  sharp  division  of  the  production  and  of  many  parts 
of  the  consumption  according  to  sex,  indeed  even  the  ex- 
it nsion  of  this  distinction  to  the  sphere  of  barter.  As  P. 
Pogge,®'  one  of  our  most  reliable  observers,  says  concisely 
of  the  Congo  negroes:  "  The  woman  has  her  own  circle 
of  duties  independent  of  that  of  her  husband."  And  in  the 
description  of  the  Bashilangas  he  observes:^"  '"  No  mem- 
ber of  the  family  troubles  himself  about  another  at  meal- 
times: while  some  eat  the  others  come  and  go  just  as  it 
suits  them;  but  the  women  and  the  smaller  children  gen- 
erally eat  together."  And  finally  he  reports  further  re- 
garding the  Lundas:  "  Under  ordinary  conditions,  when 
a  caravan  has  pitched  its  camp  in  a  village,  the  wome:'  of 
the  place  are  accustomed  to  bring  vegetables  and  fowl  into 
the  camp  for  sale,  while  goats,  pigs,  and  sheep  are  usually 
sold  only  by  the  men."'  It  is  similarly  related  by  L.  Wolf* 
that  in  the  market  at  Tbaushi  all  the  agricultural  products 
.■;Tid  1  laterials.  mats,  and  pottery  are  sold  by  the  women, 
and  only  iL^oats  and  wine  by  the  men.  F.ach  sex  is  thus 
possessor  of  its  special  proiluct  of  labour,  and  disposes  of 
i:  indejKjndentlN. ''■'•* 

The  di\  ision  of  the  labour  of  production  between  the  two 
^exe>  in  Africa  varies  in  detail  from  tribe  to  tribe;  as  a  rule, 

[f7Tt::fa>u  (N  w  York,  1887).  p.  550;  Naclitigal,  Sahara  u.  Sudan,  I, 

"  tm    i's-iche    :.  Mnata  Jamuo.  p.  40. 

'  ^\»>«r:ar  '  ntcr  dcutsch.  Flaggc  qui-r  durch  Afrika,  \t.  ,^87.  Im- 
Isnemt  ^    Ifmua    amzcu.  pp.  I"8,  2t,i. 

''  tm  Hsjcnc  J    Muatd  Jamu'O.  p.  29. 

""AST— sjair;  etc..  Im  Inticrn  Afrikas.  p.  J4Q  Conip.  Livingstone, 
l.vrrn^   -    -*f    .  jmhesi.  pp.  122,  577;    Paulitschkf,  Ethnographie  Nordost- 

**■  »•'  — r  family  md  the  domestic  establishment  of  the  Wanyamwezis, 
w+r  ji-sureti  y  ni  longer  stand  upon  a  low  plane,  Burton  gives  the 
■olkfmras  picture:  "Children  are  suckled  till  the  end  of  the  second 
Arter  the  fourth  summer  the  boy  begins  to  learn  archery. 


; 

j 

I' 


36 


PRIMlTjyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


however,  agriculture  ami  the  preparation  of  all  the  vegeta- 
ble foods  are  also  assigned  here  to  the  woman,  and  hunting, 
cattle-raising,  tanning,  and  weaving  to  the  man.'^"  This 
arrangement  is  often  supporteil  by  superstitious  usages. 
In  Uganda  the  milking  of  the  cows  falls  exclusively  to  the 
men;  a  woman  is  never  permitted  to  touch  the  udder  of 
a  cow.''  In  the  Lunda  territory,  again,  no  man  is  allowed 
to  take  part  in  the  extraction  of  oil  from  the  ground-nut, 
as  his  presence  is  thought  to  frustrate  the  success  of  the 
operation."-     As  a  rule  the  carriers  whom  Europeans  en- 


...  As  poon  .IS  [lu-l  can  walk  he  tends  the  flocks;  after  the  age  of 
ten  he  drives  the  cattle  to  pasture,  and.  considering  himself  independ- 
ent of  his  father,  he  plants  a  tobacco-plot  and  aspires  to  build  a  hut 
for  himself.  Unmarried  (jirls  live  in  the  f.ithcr's  house  until  puberty; 
after  that  period  the  spinsters  of  the  village,  who  usually  number  from 
seven  to  a  do/en.  assemble  toKether  and  build  for  themselves  at  a 
distance  from  their  homes  a  hut  where  they  can  receive  their  friends 
withriut  parental  interference.  .  .  .  Marriage  takes  place  when  the 
youth  can  afford  to  pay  the  price  for  a  wife.  [The  price]  varies,  ac- 
cording t'>  circumstances,  from  one  to  ten  cows.  The  wife  is  so  far 
the  property  of  the  husband  that  he  can  claim  damages  from  the  adul- 
terer, but  may  not  sell  her  except  when  in  dilticulties.  .  .  .  Polygamy 
is  the  rule  with  the  wealthy.  There  is  little  community  of  interest?, 
and  apparently  a  lack  of  family  affection  in  these  tribes.  The  hus- 
band, when  returning  from  the  coast  laden  with  cloth,  will  refuse  a 
single  sluikkah  to  his  wife;  .md  the  wife,  sticceeding  to  an  inheritance, 
will  abandon  her  husband  to  starvation.  The  man  takes  charge  of  the 
cattle,  goats,  sluep.  atul  poultrj  :  the  woman  has  power  over  the 
grain  and  the  \egetatple'-;  and  each  must  grow  tob.icco,  liaving  little 
hope  of  borrowing  from  the  other.  .  .  .  The  sexes  do  not  eat  to- 
gether: e\eii  the  boys  would  disdain  to  be  seen  sitting  at  meat  with 
their  motliirv  The  men  feed  either  in  their  cottages  or.  more  gen- 
erally, in  the  iw.m/a  fpublic  house,  one  being  set  apart  for  each  sex]." 
(As  above,  pp.  -•'»5>^:  ii>mp    pp,  41M-4  > 

'"Comp,  e-pecially  hVitseh.  as  above,  pp.  ;'» '^f  ■  'K?.  •2-'0-  ,U'.S;  Living- 
ston*, as  above,  pp.  77,  iif.  .Iii-i-'.  .\n  cMended  treatment  now  in 
H.  Schurt/.  Dat  nfr.  Ccwnh'  (l.eip/ig,  Kirxil.  pp.  7  tT. 

"  I'.min  lUy.  in  IVienii.iniis  Mitth,  X  N  \'  (1X70),  p.  .V)2. 

"  Wi-SMiiann,   V.O  i,  etc.,   hn  Iniurii  Afrikas.  p.  (>.\. 


PRIMlTiyE  ECONOMIC   CONDITIONS.  37 

gage  refuse  to  do  women's  work;  Livingstone"  even 
reports  a  case  of  famine  among  the  men  in  a  certain  dis- 
trict because  no  women  were  there  to  grind  the  corn  they 
had  on  hand.  The  separation  of  the  two  sexes  in  the  prep- 
aration and  consumption  of  food  is  often  made  still  more 
rigid  by  regulations  ''*  of  a  semi-religious  character,  for- 
bidding the  women  the  use  of  certain  kinds  of  meat,  which 
are  thus  reserved  for  the  men  alone. ''■''' 

Everywhere  among  primitive  peoples  the  children  become 
independent  very  early  in  youth  and  desert  the  society  of 
their  parents.  They  often  live  then  for  some  years  in  special 
common-houses,  of  which  there  are  others  for  married 
men.  These  common-hou.ses  for  the  men-folk  grouped  ac- 
cording to  age.  and  frequently  also  for  the  unmarried 
women  grouped  in  the  same  way,  are  found  very  wiilely 
distributed  in  Africa  and  America,  and  especially  in 
Oceania.  They  serve  as  common  places  of  meeting,  work, 
and  amusement,  and  as  sleeping-places  for  the  younger 
people,  and  are  used  also  for  lodging  strangers.  They 
naturally  form  a  further  obstacle  to  the  development  of  a 
common  household  economy  based  upon  the  family,  for 
each   family  is  generally  subdivided  into  different  parts 


"As  above,  pp.  !88.  565.  .Siniil.-irly  amotiK  the  Tiuli.ins;  comp. 
Wait/,  as  ahovp.  III,  p.  100. 

"More  frequent  still  in  Tolynesia.  Comp.  Andnc.  nthiogr.  Parol- 
Uk»  u.  I'crglciche.  \^\^.  ii4ff. 

"For  a  peculiar  further  development  of  this  economy  comp. 
Schweinfurth,  Sahara  u.  Sudan.  III.  pp.  i6j,  .'44,  2^^).  In  some  places 
the  separation  of  the  spheres  of  activity  f)f  the  two  sexes  extends  cv  1 
to  their  intellectual  life.  AmonK'  several  Cariljic  tribes  the  women 
and  tlie  men  h;;'-  ditTcrent  names  fur  many  things,  wlience  it  was 
inferred  that  there  existid  distinct  hmnuaKes  for  men  and  for  women. 
More  recently  this  phenomenon  is  suppoM'd  to  have  its  foundation  in 
the  didercnce  in  social  portion  of  the  sexes  and  in  the  sharp  division 
between  their  two  spheres   of  tniph'vmcnt       Comp.    Sapper,    Intirn. 


f.  Htl 


tinoKr. 


PI' 


si>  !. 


38  PRlMlTiyE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 

vv-ith  separate  dwellings.  In  Yap.  one  of  the  Caroline 
Islands,  for  instance,  we  find  besides  the  fcbays,  or  sleep- 
ing-houses of  the  unmarried,  a  principal  house  for  each 
family  which  the  father  of  the  family  uses,  and  also  a  dwell- 
ing-house for  each  wife;  finally,  "  the  preparation  of  food 
in  the  dwelling-house  is  forbidden  and  is  transferred  to  a 
separate  hut  for  each  member  of  the  family,  which  serves  as 
a  fire-cabin  or  cooking-house."  ^«  A  similar  arrangement 
prevails  in  Malekula  in  the  New  Hebrides."  Further  than 
this,  economic  individualism  can  hardly  be  carried. 

It  may  be  asserted  as  a  general  rule  for  primitive  peo- 
ples practising  polvgamy  that  each  wife  has  her  own  hut." 
Among  the  Zulus  thev  go  so  far  as  to  build  a  separate 
hut  for  almost  ever)-  adult  member  of  the  household,— 
one  for  the  husband,  one  for  his  mother,  one  for  each  of 
his  wives  and  other  adult  members  of  his  family.  These 
huts  all  stand  in  a  semicircle  about  the  enclosed  cattle- 
kraal  in  such  a  way  that  the  man's  dwelling  is  m  the  centre. 
Of  course  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  a  hut  of  this  kmd 
can  be  constructed  in  a  few  hours. 

Thus  we  see  that  everywhere,  even  among  the  more 
developed  primitive  peoples,  there  is  still  wanting  much  of 
that  unified  exclusiveness  of  domestic  life  with  which  the 
civilized  peoples  of  Europe,  from  all  we  know  of  them, 
first  appeared  in  history.  Everywhere  wide  clefts  still 
gape,  and  the  individual  preserver  an  economic  independ- 
ence that  strikes  us  with  its  strangeness.     However  much 

'•  Kubary  E.'hnogr.  Btitriige  z.  Kennt.  d.  Karnl.-Archif.  (Leiden),  p.  39- 
"Journal  o(  the  Anthropol.  Inst,  of  Gr.  Br..  X.XIII  (i8«m).  P-  J8t- 
"This  is  tlic  ca.se.  to  mention  only  a  few  instancts,  in  the  Antilles: 
St.ircko'  Tht  Primilive  Family  (New  York.  1SH9).  p.  40:  in  Min- 
danao; Sch.-,dcnbcrK,  Ztschr.  f.  Ethnol..  XVII.  p.  u;  among  the 
Bakuba:  Wissmann,  Im  Innern  Afrikas,  p.  J0.>:  among  the  Monbuttoos: 
.Schweinfiirth,  Ztschr.  f.  Ethnol..  V.  p.  12;  Tht  Heart  of  Africa.  II.  pp. 
17-18:  Ca»a!i».  La  BMiuiot,  p.  ii2. 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


39 


it  behooves  us,  in  our  consideration  of  this  minute  eco- 
nomic separation,  to  guard  against  overlooking  the  unify- 
ing forces  of  working  and  caring  for  each  other,  and 
carefully  as  we  must  refrain  from  exaggerating  the  cen- 
trifugal forces  here  at  work,  it  Is  nevertheless  not  to  be 
denied  that  they  are  all  traceable  to  one  common  origin — to 
titc  individual  search  for  food  practised  through  thousands  of 
years  by  all  these  pcof^lcs. 

In  this  lies  the  justification  of  the  method  followed  in 
this  investigation,  in  which  we  have  taken  together  peo- 
ples of  very  different  stock  and  cultural  stages,  and  con- 
sidered the  economic  phenomena  separately. 

This  procedure  is,  in  political  economy  as  in  all  social 
sciences,  entirely  justified;  provided  that,  from  the  prodig- 
ious mass  of  disconnected  facts  that  fill  ethnolog}-  like  a 
great  lumber-room,  we  succeed  in  bringing  a  considerable 
number  under  a  common  denominator  and  rescuing  them 
from  the  mystic  interpretations  of  curiosity-hunters  and 
r.'.ythologizing  visionaries.  For  political  economy  in  par- 
ticular this  method  offers  the  further  and  not  inconsider- 
able advantage,  that  the  toy  mannikin  in  the  form  of  a 
savage  freely  invented  by  the  imagination  of  civilized  man 
vanishes  from  the  scene,  and  gives  place  to  forms  that  are 
taken  from  life,  although  the  observations  from  which  they 
are  drawn  mav  leave  much  to  be  desired  in  point  of  ac- 
curacy. 

Our  travellers  have  hitherto  devoted  little  special  atten- 
tion to  the  economy  oi  primitive  peoples.  In  the  midst  of 
their  attention  to  dress,  forms  of  worship,  morals,  religious 
beliefs,  marriage  customs,  art.  and  technical  skill,  they 
have  often  overlooked  what  lay  closest  at  hand,  and  in  the 
gossipy  records  of  ethnographic  compilations  the  word 
"  economy  "  has  no  mf>re  fotmd  a  place  than  has  the  word 
"  household  "  in  the  chronicles  of  the  numerous  investi- 


40 


PRIMITIVE  ECONOMIC  CONDITIONS. 


f  >: 
»  .' 


gators  into  the  constitution  of  the  family.  But  just  be- 
cause the  observations  we  have  utiHzed  have  been  made 
for  the  most  part  only  incidentally  and  not  by  trained 
economists,  they  possess  a  high  measure  of  credibility. 
For  they  have  on  that  account  generally  escaped  the  fate 
of  being  forced  into  some  scheme  categorically  arranged 
in  accordance  with  the  conditions  of  our  own  civilization, 
and  for  that  verj'  reason  unable  to  do  justice  to  the  differ- 
ently conditioned  life  of  primitive  peoples. 


m^ 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    ECONOMIC    LIFE    OF    PRIMITIVE    PEOPLE. 

The   designation   natural   people   seems    a    particularly- 
apt  characterization  of  the  lower  races  of  men  on  their  eco- 
nomic side.     They  stand  in  more  immediate  touch  with 
nature  than  do  we;   they  are  more  dependent  upon  her, 
are  more  directly  susceptible  to  her  powers,  and  succumb 
to  tiiem  more  easily.    Civilized  man  lays  by  stores  for  the 
future;   for  the  preservation  and  embellishment  of  his  ex- 
istence he  possesses  a  wealth  of  implements;   in  the  event 
of  failure  of  his  crops  the  harvests  of  half  a  world  stand  at 
his  disposal  through  our  highly  perfected  means  of  trans- 
portation; he  subdues  the  powers  of  nature  and  impresses 
them  into  his  service.     Our  commerce  places  the  labour 
of  a  thousand  men  at  the  command  of  every  individual 
amongst  us,  and  in  every  household  watchful  eyes  guard  the 
careful  and  economical  consumption  of  the  goods  destined 
for  our  bodily  subsistence.    Primitive  man,  as  a  rule,  gath- 
ers no  stores;  a  bad  harvest  or  other  failure  of  the  natural 
sources  of  his  sustenance  strikes  him  with  its  full  weight; 
he  knows  no  labour-saving  implements,  no  system  in  dis- 
posing of  his  time,  no  ordered  consumption;    limited  to 
his  meagre  natural  powers,  threatened  on  all  sides  by  hos- 
tile forces,  each  day  he  has  to  struggle  anew  for  his  exist- 
ence, and  often  knows  not  whether  the  morrow  will  vouch- 
safe him  the  means  to  still  his  hunger.    Vet  he  does  not 
regard  the  future  with  anxiety,  he  is  a  child  of  the  moment; 
no  cares  torment  him;   his  mind  is  fillcl  with  a  boundless 
naive  egoism.     With  thoughts  extending    'o  further,  he 

41 


u 


I! 


Hi 


(I  l 


42 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITiyE  PEOPLE. 


instinctively  follows  his  impulses,  and  in  this  regard  also 
stands  closer  to  nature  than  ourselves.^ 

The  former  ♦■  'le  was  to  classify  primitive  peoples  accord- 
ing to  the  manner  in  which  they  procured  their  sustenance 
into  hunters,  fishers,  pastorals,  and  agriculturalists.  In 
this  it  was  believed  that  each  people  must  traverse  these 
four  stages  of  economic  development  in  its  progress 
towards  civilization.  The  starting-point  was  the  tacit  as- 
sumption that  primitive  man  began  with  animal  food  and 
only  gradually  passed  over,  under  the  stress  of  necessity, 
to  a  vegetable  diet.  The  procuring  of  vegetable  food 
moreover  was  considered  the  more  difficult  inasmuch  as 
the  picture  of  our  European  system  of  agriculture  was  ever 
in  mind  with  its  draught-animals  and  artificial  apparatus 
of  implements  and  tools. 

But  this  conception  is  erroneous,  just  as  is  the  assump- 
tion from  which  it  proceeds.  Certainly  all  economic  activ- 
ity begins  with  the  procuring  of  food,  which  is  wholly  de- 
pendent upon  the  local  distribution  of  the  gifts  of  nature. 
From  the  beginning  man  was  primarily  dependent  upon 
vegetable  nourishment,  and  wherever  tree-fruits,  berries, 
and  roots  were  to  be  gained,  he  first  made  use  of  these.  In 
case  of  need  he  turned  to  petty  animals  which  could  be 
consumed  raw:  shell-fish,  worms,  beetles,  grasshoppers, 
ants,  etc.  Like  the  lower  animal  in  continuous  quest  of 
food,  he  devoured  at  the  moment  what  he  found  without 
providing  for  the  future. 

If  from  this  stage  we  seek  the  transition  to  the  next,  a 
little  reflection  tells  us  that  it  could  not  have  been  difficult 
'  Comp,  in  general  R.  Vierkandt,  Nalurvolker  u.  KuUunvlker  (Leip- 
zig. \M>).  pp  2(0  ff.  On  the  conception  of  natural  peoples  see  further 
Panckow.  Ztschr.  d.  Gcs.  f.  Erdkunde  zu  Berlin,  XXXI  (i8<)6>.  pp. 
158,  ISO.  Anyone  inclined  to  find  fault  with  the  indefinitencss  of  the 
definition  should  not  overlook  the  fact  that  no  single  case  has  pre- 
sented itscii  fair-itiK  tlie  point  whether  a  certain  people  was  to  be  re- 
garded as  primitive  or  not. 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIi^F  PEOPLE. 


43 


to  gain  the  practical  knowledge  that  a  buried  bulb  or  nut 
furnishes  a  new  plant, — certainly  not  more  difficult  than 
taming  animals  or  inventing  fish-hooks  and  bow  and  ar- 
row, which  transition  to  the  hunting  stage  required.-  As 
regards  technical  skill  many  hunting  and  nomadic  peoples 
stand  far  above  so-called  agricultural  peoples.  Of  late 
men  have  come  to  believe  that  nomads  should  rather  be 
considered  savage  agriculturalists;  and  as  a  matter  of  fact 
it  is  highly  improbable  that  a  tribe  of  hunters  should  first 
have  hit  upon  the  taming  of  animals  before  they  could  pro- 
cure milk,  eggs,  and  meat.  Moreover,  except  in  the  ex- 
treme north,  there  is  probably  no  fishing,  hunting,  or  pas- 
toral people  that  does  not  draw  a  more  or  less  consider- 
able portion  of  its  sustenance  from  the  vegetable  kingdom. 
For  this  supply  many  of  them  have  long  been  dependent 
upon  trade  with  more  highly  developed  neighboring  peo- 
ples. They  thus  lack  that  economic  independence  which 
our  study  requires  if  it  is  to  arrive  at  conclusions  univer- 
sally applicable. 

Now  since  the  instances  of  hunting,  fishing,  and  no- 
madic tribes,  which  are  accepted  as  typical,  are  only  to  be 
found  under  special  geographical  and  climatic  conditions 
that  hardly  permit  of  a  different  manner  of  obtaining 
sustenance  (hunters  and  fishers  in  the  farthest  north, 
nomads  in  the  steppes  and  desert  places  of  the  Old  World), 
it  may  be  advisable  in  our  further  consideration  to  leave 
them  wholly  aside  and  limit  the  field  of  our  investigation 
to  the  intertropical  districts  of  America,  Africa,  Australia, 
the  Malay  Archipelago,  Melanesia,  and  Polynesia.  This 
is  still  an  enormous  circuit,  within  which  the  diversity 
of  natural    conditions   surrounding   primitive   man    pro- 

•  Comp.  in  general  E.  Hahn,  Die  Hausthiere  u.  ihrc  Besiehungen  s. 
Wirthschaft  d.  Menschen  (Leipzig,  1896);  P.  R.  Bos,  Jagd,  Vicksucht  u. 
Ackerbau  ah  Kulturstufen  in  Intern.  Archiv  f.  Ethnographic,  X  (1897), 
pp.  iHTfi. 


ill 


i 
s . 

j  . 

i.. 

3-  a. 


44 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


ru 


duces  many  j>eculiarities  in  his  material  existence.  The 
differences  between  the  individual  tribes  in  this  regard  are, 
however,  not  so  great  as,  for  instance,  between  the  Esqui- 
maux and  the  Polynesian.  At  any  rate,  notwithstanding 
the  great  differences  of  the  races  in  conditions  of  life  and 
•ways  of  living,  they  have  still  sufficient  in  common  to  oc- 
cupy our  attention.  In  addition  to  this  we  have  here 
the  oldest  ree:ions  inhabited  by  man,  which,  however,  in 
spite,  or  periiaps  on  account,  of  the  bounties  of  tropical 
nature,  also  appear  to  be  those  in  which  their  development 
has  been  most  slow. 

At  all  stages  of  his  development  the  primitive  man  of 
these  regions  manifestly  finds  in  vegetable  diet  the  l)asis 
of  his  sustenance.  This  is  evident  from  the  simple 
fact  that  he  has  always  found  animal  food  much  more  dif- 
ficult to  obtain.  This  is  not  contradicted  by  the  circum- 
stance that  at  times  we  notice  an  eagerness  for  flesh  break 
forth  among  many  savage  races  which  appalls  us,  since  it 
does  not  shrink  even  from  its  own  kind.  The  explanation 
in  all  probability  is  that  the  definite  quantity  of  salt  requi- 
site for  the  normal  maintenance  of  the  human  body  can- 
not be  conveyed  to  it  through  purely  vegetable  diet,  while 
it  is  quite  possible  with  occasional  raw-flesh  food  to  live 
without  salt.  The  same  desire  for  salt  is  manifested  even 
by  the  purely  herbivorous  among  our  domestic  animals. 

The  need  of  nourishment  [we  have  seen]  is  the  most 
urgent,  and  originally  the  sole,  force  impelling  man  to  activ- 
ity, and  causing  him  to  wander  about  incessantly  until  it  is 
satisfied.  The  species  of  Jirision  of  labour  between  the 
two  sexes,  which  this  primitive  search  for  food  gives  rise 
to,  reaches  its  highest  form  when  the  wife  procures  the 
vegetable,  the  man  the  animal,  portion  of  the  food.  And 
since,  as  a  rule,  the  food  gained  is  immediately  devoured, 
and  no  one  takes  thought  for  the  other  as  long  as  he  him- 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


45 


self  is  hungry,  a  difference  in  the  nourishment  of  the  two 
sexes  arises  that  has  perhaps  contributed  in  an  important 
degree  to  the  differentiation  of  their  bodily  development. 

The  division  of  labour  of  these  primitive  roaming  hordes 
is  continued  at  higher  stages  of  development,  and  receives 
there  such  sharp  expression  that  the  rigidly  limited  spheres 
of  activity  of  the  man  and  the  woman  form  almost  a  spe- 
cies of  secondary  sex-characteristics  whose  understanding 
gives  us  the  key  to  the  economic  life  of  primitive  peoples. 
In  particular  almost  all  their  production  of  goods  is  dom- 
inated by  it. 

Turning  now  to  the  latter,  we  should  note  by  way  of 
preface  that  by  far  the  greater  part  of  our  primitive  peo- 
ples, when  they  came  under  the  view  of  Europeans,  were 
acquainted  with,  and  practised,  agriculture.  This  is  true, 
for  instance,  of  all  the  negro  races  of  Africa  with  but  few 
exceptions,  of  the  Malays,  the  Polynesians,  and  Mela- 
nesians,  and  of  the  primitive  races  of  America,  save  those 
living  at  the  extreme  north  and  south  of  that  hemisphere. 
It  is  a  widely  prevalent  error,  for  which  our  youthful  read- 
ing is  responsible,  that  makes  pure  hunting  races  out  of 
the  North  American  Indians.  All  the  tribes  east  of  the 
Mississippi  and  south  of  the  St.  Lawrence  were  familiar 
with  the  cultivation  of  food-plants  before  the  coming  of 
Europeans;  and,  in  the  regions  lying  beyond,  they  at  least 
gathered  the  grain  of  the  water-rice  (cicania  aquatica)  and 
ground  meal  from  the  berries  of  the  manzanita  shrub.'' 

The  agriculture  of  primitive  peoples  is,  however,  pecu- 
liar.'* In  the  first  p'ace  it  knows  nothing  of  an  implement 
that  we  think  indispensable,  namely,  the  plough.  Wheel 
and  wagon  and  draught-animals  are  likewise  unknown. 
Furthermore,  cattle-raising  forms  no  integral  part  of  their 


'  Waitz,  .Utthrofvlogu'  d.  Xatunvlkcr.  III. 
*Conip.  E.  Hahn.  as  above,  pp.  j88  ft. 


pp. 


1 


46 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRlMlTiyE  PEOPLE. 


ll 


il 


-  I 


I? 

I  i ' 


I    : 


t       I 


agriculture.  Fertilizing  of  the  soil  occurs  at  times,  but  it 
is  extremely  rare.  More  frequent  are  irrigation  arrange- 
ments, especially  for  rice  and  taro  plantations.  As  a  rule, 
however,  the  cultivated  land  must  be  changed  when  its 
nutritive  elements  are  exhausted;  and  the  change  is  facili- 
tated by  the  absence  of  individual  property  in  the  soil, 
which  belongs  to  the  tribe  or  the  village  community  as  a 
vvhole.  Lastly,  [we  may  recall,]  the  preparing  of  the  soil 
is  almost  exclusively  woman's  work.  Only  in  the  first 
clearing  of  a  piece  of  lar.d  do  the  men  assist. 

Of  late  years  this  system  of  culture  has  been  designated 
the  hack  or  hoc  system,  a  short-handled  hoe  being  its  chief 
implement.  With  .some  tribes  the  primitive  digging-stick 
still  retains  its  place.  At  the  basis  of  its  plant  production 
lie  the  tropical  tuberous  growths:  manioc,  yam,  taro,  sweet 
potato,  pignut,  and  in  addition  bananas,  various  species  of 
gourds  (cucurbitacccc) ,  beans,  and  of  the  grains,  rice, 
durra,  and  maize.  Rice  has  its  oldest  home  in  South  China 
probably,  the  durra  in  Africa,  and  maize,  as  is  well  known, 
in  America.  There  belong,  finally,  to  this  system  of  agri- 
culture the  tropical  fruit-trees— sago  ,  date-,  and  cocoa- 
palms,  the  breadfruit-tree,  and  the  like. 

On  account  cf  the  imperfect  nature  and  limited  pro- 
ductivity of  the  implements,  only  small  stretches  of  land 
can  ever  be  taken  into  cultivation  under  the  hack  system. 
It  is  closely  related  externally,  and  also  in  the  manner  in 
which  it  is  carried  on.  to  our  garden  culture.  The  fields 
are  generally  divided  into  beds,  which  are  often  hilled  in 
an  exemplary  fashion  and  kept  perfectly  free  of  weeds. 
The  whole  is  surrounded  with  a  hedge  to  keep  out  wild 
animals;  against  the  grain-eating  birds,  which  are  particu- 
larly dangerous  to  the  har\'ests  of  the  tropics,  the  Malays 
set  up  ver\'  ingeniously  constructed  scarecrows;  in  most 
places  in  Africa  special  waich-towcrs  arc  erected  in  the 


'Si 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRJMITiyE  PEOPLE. 


47 


fields  from  which  the  young  girls  make  noises  to  frighten 
away  the  animals.  As  a  rule  a  definite  crop  rotation  is  ob- 
served. In  the  Congo  basin,  for  instance,  when  the  land 
is  newly  broken  up  it  is  first  planted  with  beans,  and  when 
these  are  harvested,  millet  is  sown;  interspersed  with  the 
latter  the  sprouts  of  the  manioc  are  often  set  out.  The 
manioc  does  not  yield  full  returns  for  from  one  and  a  half 
to  two  years,  and  occupies  the  land  until  the  roots  com- 
mence to  become  ligneous,  and  virgin  soil  must  be  taken 
tip.  In  New  Pomerania  the  rotation  is  yam  roots  first, 
then  taro.  and  finally  bananas,  sugar-cane,  and  the  like.® 

Travellers  have  often  described  the  deep  impression 
made  upon  them  when,  on  coming  out  of  the  dreary 
primeval  forest,  they  happened  suddenly  upon  the  well- 
tended  fields  of  the  natives.  In  the  more  thickly  popu- 
latea  parts  of  Africa  these  fields  often  stretch  for  many  a 
mile,  and  the  assiduous  care  of  tlie  negro  women  shines 
in  all  the  brighter  light  when  we  consider  the  insecurity  of 
life,  the  constant  feuds  and  pillagings,  in  which  no  one 
knows  whether  he  will  in  the  end  be  able  to  harvest  what 
he  has  sown.  Livingstone  gives  somewhere  a  graphic 
description  of  the  devastations  wrought  by  the  slave-hunts; 
the  people  were  lying  about  slain,  the  dwellings  were  de- 
molished; in  the  fields,  however,  the  grain  was  ripening, 
and  there  v.as  none  to  harvest  it.  But  as  yet  the  life  of 
these  people  is  by  no  means  firmly  attached  to  the  soil; 
seldom  do  their  settlements  remain  for  several  generations 
on  the  same  spot;^  their  houses  are  fugitive  structures  of 

'Descriptions  of  hack  agriculture  in  Angola,  Congo  district:  Pogge. 
pp.  8.  9;  Wissmann,  Unter  deutsch.  Flagge,  pp.  34i  ff-:  among  the  Mon- 
buttos:  Schweinfurth,  In  the  Heart  of  Africa,  II,  pp.  37-39;  in 
Mindanao:  Ztschr  f.  Ethnol.,  XVII,  pp.  19 ff-;  in  New  Guinea:  Finsch, 
Samoafahrten,  pp.  56 ff.;  in  New  Pomerania:  Parkinson,  Im  Bismarck- 
Archipel,  pp.  118  ff.;  in  South  America:  Martiub,  Zur  Ethnogr.  Atner- 
ikas,  pp.  84.  85.  489.  490. 

'  Ratzel,  I,  p.  85 ;  Panckow,  pp.  167  ff. 


48 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


I  I 

H 

IP 
111 
\\\ 

SB      i     J. 


li** 


poles  and  grass;  their  other  possessions  may  easily  be 
carried  away  on  their  backs  or  quickly  replaced,  and  on 
another  spot  a  new  village  in  a  few  days  can  be  erected 
in  which  nothing  from  the  old  is  lacking  save  the  vermin. 

Hack  agriculture  is  exactly  suited  to  just  such  a  life. 
It  requires  no  fixed  capital  beyond  the  small  hoe  and, 
where  corn  is  cultivated,  perhaps  a  knife  to  cut  the  ears. 
The  keeping  of  supplies  is  scarcely  necessary,  since  in 
many  quarters  the  climate  permits  several  harvests  in  the 
year.  Where  grain  is  grown,  however,  it  is  customary  to 
store  '  in  small  granaries  built  on  posts,  or  in  pits  in  the 
earth,  or  in  great  earthen  vessels.  But  even  where  thus 
stored  it  must  soon  be  used  if  it  is  not  to  be  destroy».d 
through  dampness,  weevils,  and  termites.  Livingstone 
thinks  this  explains  why  the  negroes  in  case  of  abundant 
harvest  brew  so  much  beer.^ 

Hack  agriculture  is  still  one  of  the  most  widely  prevalent 
systems  of  husbandry.  It  is  to  be  found  throughout  all 
Ceni-al  Africa  (i8°  N.  lat.  to  22°  S.  lat.).  in  South  and 
Central  America,  in  the  whole  of  the  Australian  islands, 
in  great  sections  of  Further  India  and  the  East  Indian 
Archipelago,  Everywhere,  [as  already  noted],  it  appears 
to  have  been  originally  woman's  work;  and  as  such  it  is 
a  great  factor  in  advancing  civilization.  Obviously  through 
hunting  for  roots,  which  she  had  practised  from  the  earliest 
times,  woman  was  led  on  to  agriculture.  Farinaceous  bulbs 
and  root-crops  form  accordingly  the  chief  part  of  her  plan- 
tations. In  this  manner  she  gained  technical  experiences 
which  the  man  did  not  enjoy.  Her  labour  soon  yielded 
the  most  important  part  of  the  requirements  of  life;  and 
therewith  was  laid  the  foundation  of  a  permanent  family 
organization,  in  which  the  man  undertook  the  offices  of 
protection  and  the  procuring  of  animal  food.    Only  where 

*  Expedit.  to  Zambesi,  p.  253. 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PfUMUlvE  PEOPLE. 


49 


there  are  no  large  quantities  of  game  toes  the  man  take 
part  in  the  cultivation  of  th?  soil,  as,  foi  instance,  among 
the  Malays. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  second  source  of  sustenance, 
hunting  and  fishing.  Through  the  imperfect  nature  oi 
their  weapons  hunting  has  ever  had  among  primiti'-'j  peo- 
ples a  strong  resemblance  to  the  method  of  the  beast  of 
prey  stealing  upon  its  victim.  A  larger  animal  can  only  be 
wounded  by  an  arrow-shot  or  spear-thrust,  not  killed;  and 
then  it  is  the  hunter's  task  to  pursue  the  Vast  until  it  sinks 
down  exhausted.  As  this  species  of  hunt  may,  however, 
under  certain  circumstances,  become  very  dangerous,  the 
most  varied  ways  of  trapping  have  been  invented — pits, 
barricades,  and  falling  trees;  or  in  attacking  the  animal 
directly  the  hunt  is  carried  on  by  whole  tribes  or  village 
communities.^  Under  such  circumstances  communal  own- 
ership of  the  hunting-grounds  and  the  establishment  of 
very  detailed  rules  for  the  distribution  of  the  booty  among 
the  participants  and  the  owners  of  the  ground  have  been 
early  developed;  but  on  such  matters  we  cannot  enter 
here.**^  The  essential  thing  for  us  to  note  is  that  the  part  of 
the  duties  pertaining  to  the  providing  of  footl  necessitates 
a  certain  organization  of  work  conformable  to  the  princi- 
ple of  labour  in  common — a  circumstance  that  has  cer- 
tainly been  of  the  greatest  importance  for  the  birth  of 
primitive  political  communities. 

The  same  is  to  be  said  of  fisliing,^^  especially  where  the 
industry  is  followed  along  the  seashore  with  boats  and 
large  nets,  which  can  be  produced  and  handled  only  with 
the  help  of  many.    The  Ne'  /  Zealanders,  for  instance,  wove 

'On  the  hunting  methods  of  the  Kaffirs  cunip.  Fritsch,  pp.  81  ff. ;  of 
the  South  Americans,  Martins,  pp.  8j,  101. 

'"Some  particulars  in  Post,  Afr.  Juiistr..  II,  pp.  i6z.  163;  Lubbock, 
Origin  of  Civilisation,  p.  435. 

■•'  As  to  fishing  comp.  in  general  Katzel,  1,  pp.  ij4,  396,  506,  531. 


li 


so 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


!  ill 


in 


i  I  ^i 


<   r  « 


I  i 


nets  one  thousand  yards  in  length  and  it  took  hundreds  of 
hands  to  use  them.  Innumerable  are  the  modes  of  catch- 
ing fish  which  primitive  peoples  have  invented;  besides 
hook  and  net,  arrows,  spears,  bow-nets,  and  methods  of 
stunning  the  fish  are  resorted  to.  All  our  information  on 
this  subject  indicates  that  fishing  acquired  a  much  more 
regular  character  among  primitive  peoples  than  hunting. 
On  many  islands  of  the  South  Sea,  indeed,  definite  days  of 
the  week  have  once  for  all  been  set  apart  for  the  communal 
fishing;  and  the  leatlers  of  the  fishing  expeditions  are  also 
the  leaders  in  war.  Stream-fishing  has  been  especially  de- 
veloped by  the  primitive  inhabitants  of  South  America, 
among  whom  there  are  tribes  that  have  been  called  fish- 
ing nomads  because  they  wander  from  stream  to  stream. 
The  same  also  occurs  here  and  there  in  Africa.  The  actual 
labour  of  fishing  seems  always  to  fall  to  the  men;  it  is  only 
in  some  districts  of  Polynesia  that  the  women  take  a  lim- 
ited part  in  it. 

Because  of  the  very  perishable  nature  of  meat,  hunt- 
ing and  fishing  in  tropical  regions  can,  in  the  majority  cf 
cases,  supplement  the  vegetable  diet  only  occasionally. 
True,  the  drying  and  even  the  smoking  of  the  fish  and 
meat  cut  into  strips  was  early  learned  and  practised.  This 
i.s  the  usage  with  the  Polynesians  as  well  as  among  the 
Malays  and  Americans,  and  even  among  the  negroes  and 
Australians.  Yet  the  pan  ci  the  food  requirement  which 
can  be  regularly  met  in  this  manner  is  so  small  that  it  is 
a  rule  among  many  tribes  that  only  the  more  prominent 
persons  may  enjoy  certain  kinds  of  game.  It  is  ([uite  com- 
mon also  for  the  use  of  certain  kinds  of  meat  to  be  for- 
bidden to  the  v.'omen.  It  is  only  small  forest  and  coast 
tribes,  who  are  able  with  their  dried  meat  to  carry  on  trade 
with  agricultural  neighbours,  that  find  their  support  in 
hunting  and  fishing. 


THE  ECONOM.'C  LIFE  OF  PRIMlTIf^E  PEOPLE. 


51 


It  would  accordingly  be  quite  natural  to  assume  that 
primitive  peoples  must  early  have  hit  upon  the  taming  and 
raising  of  animals  as  a  source  of  a  regular  food-supply. 
But  we  can  speak  of  cattle-raising  as  a  practice  among  the 
peoples  of  the  tropical  regions  only  in  a  very  restricted 
sense.  The  hen  alone,  of  our  domestic  animals,  is  to  be 
found  everywhere;  besides  it  there  is  in  Africa  the  goat, 
among  the  Malays  and  Polynesians  the  pig,  and  among 
the  Americans  the  turkey,  the  musk-duck  and  the  guinea- 
pig.  Cattle  are  found  only  among  one  section  of  the 
Malays  and  in  one  strip,  more  or  less  broad,  of  East 
Africa,  which  runs  through  almost  the  whole  continent, 
from  the  Dukas  and  Baris  on  the  Upper  Nile  to  the 
Hottentots  ?nd  Namaquas  in  the  south.  But  most  of 
these  people  o  not  use  them  as  draught-animals;  many 
of  them  do  not  even  use  their  milk;  many  East  African 
cattle-raisers  never  slaughter  a  beast  except  when  they 
have  captured  it  from  another  tribe.*'  Here  and 
there  in  Equatorial  Africa  the  ox  serves  as  a  riding  and 
pack  animal;  but,  generally  speaking,  the  possession  of 
cattle  is  for  the  negro  peoples  merely  "  a  representation  of 
wealth  and  the  object  of  an  almost  extravagant  venera- 
tion,"— merely  a  matter  of  fancy. 

Ami  this  in  general  is  the  character  of  cattle-keeping 
among  primitive  peoples.  An  Indian  village  in  the  inte- 
rior of  Brazil,  [as  we  have  remarked  in  our  last  chapter], 
resembles  a  great  menagerie;  even  the  art  of  dyeing  the 
plumage  of  birds  is  known;  but  none  of  the  many  animals 
are  raised  because  of  the  meat  or  for  other  economic  pur- 
pose; the  very  eggs  of  the  hens,  which  are  kept  in  large 
numbers,  are  not  eiten.'-^    To  the  Indian  the  lower  animals 

"  Schweinfurth,  I,  pp.  59,  60;  LivinRstonr,  p.  ssj;  Pogge,  p.  23; 
Wissmann,  Im  Inntrn  Afrikas,  pp.  25,  127. 

"Ehrenreich,  pp.  i.i,  14,  54;  Martius,  pp.  6;j  ff.;  K.  v.  d.  Steinen, 
PP  •Jio,  379.    bimilariy  amung  the  Oceanians:  Ratzei,  I,  p.  2j6. 


1 1? 


if 


>d 


52  THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

are  beings  closely  related  to  man,  and  in  which  he  delights; 
but,  as  is  evident,  this  keeping  of  animals  is  much  more 
closely  allied  to  the  hunt  than  to  agriculture.  Here  we 
have  to  do  with  tamed,  not  with  domestic,  animals.  With 
such  a  state  of  affairs  the  place  of  the  pig  in  the  domestic 
economy  of  the  Oceanians  has  many  cognate  features;  it  is 
petted  by  the  whole  family;  its  young  are  not  infrequently 
suckled  by  the  women;  and  its  flesh  is  eaten  only  on  feast 
days  and  then  by  the  more  prominent  people  alone.  The 
sole  animal,  [other  than  the  hen],  which  is  found  among 
all  primitive  peoples  is  the  dog;  but  it  also  is  a  pure  luxury 
and  is  almost  nowhere  employed  in  the  hunt;  only  a  few 
tribes  eat  its  flesh,  and  it  has  been  claimed  from  ob- 
servation that  these  are  always  such  as  are  devoted  to 

cannibalism. 

On  the  whole,  then,  no  importance  can  attach  to  cattle- 
raising  in  the  production  of  the  food-supplies  of  primitive 
peoples;  in  their  husbandry  it  forms  little  more  than  an 
element  of  consumption. 

But  the  needs  of  these  peoples  are  not  confined  to  sus- 
tenance.   Even  the  lowest  among  them  paint,  or  in  other 
ways  decorate,  their  bodies,  and  make  bow^  and  arrows; 
the  more  advanced  erect  more  or  less  substantial  houses, 
plait  and  weave  all  kinds  of  stufTs.  carve  implements,  make 
burnt  earthen  vessels;  all  prepare  their  food  with  fire,  and 
with  few  exceptions  know  how  to  concoct  intoxicatmg 
beverages.    For  all  this  labour  of  ditTcrcnt  kinds  is  neces- 
sary which  we  can  cluiracterize  in  a  simple  manner  as  the 
transformation  or  tt-or/,  m/^'  »/'  of  material,  and  which  in  the 
main  embraces  what  we  <lcsi-nate  industry.     Now  what 
system  did  ami  does  such  work  exhibit  among  primitive 

peoples' 

If  we  arc  to  answer  this  (juestion  we  must  distmguish 
sharplv  the  tcciinical  and  the  economic  sides  of  industry. 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


53 


Technique  in  connection  with  the  transformation  of  ma- 
terial is  primarily  dependent  on  natural  conditions,  and  ac- 
cordingly develops  among  most  primitive  peoples  only 
along  special  lines.''  Their  implements  are  at  first  simple, 
natural  objects,  such  as  stones,  animal  bones,  shells,  sharp- 
ened pieces  of  wood,  destined  almost  solely  to  increase  the 
working  power  of  the  human  members  Of  implements 
consisting  of  more  than  one  part,  we  may  mention  the 
hand-mill  and  crushing-mortar.  The  first  is  merely  a  sta- 
tionary and  a  movable  stone  with  which  the  grains  of  corn 
are  ground  in  the  same  manner  as  our  artisans  grind  paint 
in  a  mortar.  The  crushing-mortar  is  a  hollowed  tree-trunk 
with  a  wooden  pestle.  The  simplest  labour-saving  me- 
chanical helps,  such  as  wedge,  lever,  tongs,  and  screw,  are 
unknown  to  them.  Their  boats  are  tree-trunks  hollowed 
out  with  fire,  or  pieces  of  bark  sewn  together;  the  rudders 
are  sf>oonlike  pieces  of  wood  with  short  handles  represent- 
ing little  more  than  a  broadening  out  of  the  hand.  The 
ai  I  of  joining  together  pieces  of  wood  or  other  hard  mate- 
rial by  pegs,  nails,  dovetailing,  or  glue  they  are  ignorant 
of;  for  this  purpose  they  use  tough  fibres  or  cords  or  even 
mere  tendrils  of  climbing  plants.  Metal-working  was  un- 
known to  the  Australians,  Melanesians,  Polynesians,  and 
the  native  inhabitants  of  .America  before  the  coming  of  the 
Europeans.  On  the  other  hand  the  negro  peoples  are  uni- 
versally familiar  with  the  procuring  and  working  up  of 
iron,  and  here  and  there  of  copper  as  well.  A  more  ad- 
vanced techni(|ue  as  regards  metals  is  found  only  among 
the  Malays.  But  even  in  the  iron-forging  of  the  negroes 
all  the  technical  awkwardness  of  these  peoples  can  be  per- 
ceived. Their  smiths  did  not  even  hit  upon  the  idea  of 
making  their  own  tools  out  of  iron.  Hammers  and  anvils 
are  stones,  and  very  often  the  tnngs  are  only  the  rib  of  a 
palm-leaf. 

"On  what  foli'iw*  romp.  Arbeit  u    Nhythnius.  pp.  lo  ff 


■  jpWJiuiWPfWHW" 


3>        1 

11 


1  "'  . 


54  THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

In  Spite  of  this  technical  backwardness  many  primitive 
peoples  with  their  wretched  tools  produce  wares  of  such 
quality  and  art^.stic  taste  as  to  arouse  our  highest  admira- 
tion.   This  is  possible  only  when  the  particular  technical 
processes  are  applied  in    le  simplest,  and  at  the  same  time 
most  comprehensive,  manner.    Preeminent  are  weavmg, 
pottery,  and  wcod-carving.    What  indeed  do  the  tropical 
peoples  not  make  out  of  the  bast  and  fibrous  material  of 
their  forests,  of  the  tough  grasses  and  rushes— from  mats 
and  clothing-stuflEs  of  bark  to  water-tight  baskets,  dishes, 
and  bottles?    What  is  not  made  by  the  East  Indians  and 
Eastern  Asiatics  fror.^  bamboo— from  the  timbers  of  the 
house  to  water-vesseis,  blowing-tubes,  and  musical  instru- 
ments?   How  highly  developed  is  woodwork  among  the 
Papuans;  ami  what  patience  and  perseverance  it  demands! 
To  weave  a  pijce  of  stuff  of  raffia  fibre  in  Madagascar  often 
takes  several  months;  and  in  South  America  the  same  time 
is  required  to  finish  a  hammock.    The  polishing  and  pierc- 
ing of  the  milk-white  pieces  of  quartz  that  the  Uaupes 
of  Brazil  wear  about  their  necks  is  frequently  the  work  of 
two  generations. 

This  leads  us  directly  to  the  industrial  organisation  in  the 
working  tit  of  material     For  such  labour  there  are,  with 
few  exceptions,  no  distinctly  professional  craftsmen.    Each 
household  has  to  meet  all  economic  requirements  of  its 
members  with  its  o'-m  labour;  and  this  is  accomplished 
by  means  of  that  peculiar  division  of  dulies  l)etween  the 
two  sexes,  which  we  have  come  to  know  [in  the  preceding 
chapter].     Not  only  is  it  that  a  definite  part  of  the  provid- 
ing of  food  is  assigned   to  either  sex,   but   each   looks 
after  the  preparing  of  such  as  is  gained  along  with  all  at- 
tendant tasks.     To  the  woman  falls  all  that  is  connected 
with  the  procuring  and  preparing  of  the  vegetable  foods: 
to  the  man  the  makinp  of  wca])<.ii-,.  .ui.l  of  implements  for 
hunting,  fishing,  and  cattle-raising,  the  working-up  of  ani- 


if 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRlMlTiyE  PEOPLE. 


55 


mal  bones  and  skins,  and  the  building  of  canoes.  As  a  rule 
the  man  also  looks  after  the  roasting  of  the  meats  and  the 
drying  of  fish,  while  the  woman  must  attend  to  the  labor- 
ious grinding  of  the  com,  which  she  has  grown,  the  brew- 
ing of  beer,  the  shaping  and  burning  of  earthen  pots  for 
cooking,  and  in  many  instances  the  building  of  the  huts  as 
well.  Besides  these  there  are  many  species  of  the  trans- 
forming of  material,  which  are  allotted  now  to  one  sex, 
now  to  the  other.  We  may  mention  spinning,  weaving, 
plaiting,  the  preparing  of  palm-wine  and  of  bark  stuffs. 
But,  on  the  whole,  this  division  of  duties  between  the  male 
and  the  female  members  of  families  is  sharply  drawn.  In- 
deed it  is  continued  even  in  consumption,  for  men  and 
women  never  eat  together;  and,  where  polygamy  exists,  a 
separate  hut  must  be  provided  for  each  wife.'* 

We  cannot  enter  upon  a  more  detailed  discussion 
of  this  peculiarly  evolved  dualism  in  liouselwld  economy 
among  primitive  peoples.  It  devolves  upon  us,  however, 
to  establish  that  the  labour  of  the  members  of  the  house- 
hold, which  is  of  such  an  individualistic  character,  cannot 
suffice  for  all  tasks  of  their  economic  life.  For  under- 
takings that  surpass  the  strength  of  the  single  household, 
assistance  must  therefore  be  obtained:  either  the  help  of  the 
neighbours  is  solicited  or  all  such  labours  are  performed 
at  one  time  by  the  whole  village  community.  The  latter 
is  the  rule  in  Africa,  for  instance,  with  the  breaking  of 
stretches  of  forest  land  for  cultivation,  the  laying  of  barri- 
cades and  pits  for  trapping  wild  animals,  and  elephant- 
hunting;  in  F'olynesia.  with  the  weaving  of  large  fishing- 
nets,  the  building  of  large  houses,  the  baking  of  bread- 
fruit in  a  common  oven,  and  the  like.  Where  clanship  or 
slavery  or  polygamy  exists,  there  is  offered  a  means  for 
multiplying  the  domestic  working  strcncrth,  and  thus  for 


'  Com  p. 


•ve.  rr 


56 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


fe  I 


)         r       ,i' 


accomplishing  services  of  a  higher  order  for  which  the 
individual's  strength  does  not  suffice. 

Within  the  separate  tribes,  accordingly,  the  working 
and  refining  of  the  raw  products  does  not  lead  to  the  de- 
velopment of  distinct  trades,  in  that  such  work  is  carried 
on  with  uniform  independence  in  each  separate  household 
From  the  reports  of  travellers,  who  judged  from  appear- 
ances, the  existence  of  artisans  among  various  primitive 
peoples  has  indeed  been  asserted.  Thus  on  certain  islands 
of  the  South  Sea  there  are  said  to  be  professional  carpen- 
ters, shoemakers,  net-knitters,  stone-borers,  and  wood- 
car\'ers.  On  closer  examination  of  the  particular  cases 
these  observations  are  open  to  doubt;  to  me  the  case  of 
the  native  metal-worker  seems  alone  to  be  proved.  Among 
the  negroes  of  Africa,  as  far  as  I  can  judge,  only  among 
the  semi-civilized  peoples  of  the  Soudan  are  there  the  be- 
ginnings of  a  special  industrial  class.  Beyond  this  any 
traces  of  a  specialized  industry  supposed  to  have  been  dis- 
covered among  primitive  peoples  are  to  be  thus  ex- 
plained: either  individuals  manifesting  special  aptitude 
for  some  manufacture  came  under  the  observation  of 
travellers,  or  entire  tribes  excelled  in  a  particular  kind  of 
household  occupation,  as  we  shall  see  directly.  Trades 
formed  only  under  European  influence  must  naturally  be 
disregarded  here. 

But  from  tribe  to  tribe  we  find  great  differences  in  this 
industrial  working-up  of  materials.  It  may  even  be  safely 
claimed  that  almost  every  tribe  displays  some  favourite 
form  of  industrial  activity,  in  which  its  members  surpass 
the  other  tribes.  This  is  due  to  the  varied  distribution  of 
natural  products.  If  good  potter's  clay  is  to  be  found  in 
the  district  or  village  of  a  particular  tribe,  the  women  of 
this  tribe  or  village  readily  acquire  special  skill  in  pottery; 
where  native  iron  ore  is  discovered,  smiths  will  appear; 


r  \  t 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


57 


while  along  well-wooded  seacoasts  boat-building  will  flour- 
ish. Other  tribes  or  localities  excel  in  the  preparation  of 
salt  from  vegetable  ashes,  in  the  making  of  palm-wine  or 
leather  or  skin  garments;  others  again  in  the  making  of 
calabashes,  baskets,  mats,  and  woven  materials.  All  these 
forms  of  skill,  however,  are  aptitudes  such  as  every  man  or 
every  woman  of  the  particular  tribe  or  locality  knows  and 
also  practises  on  occasion.  When  these  individuals  are 
designated  by  travellers  as  smiths,  salt-makers,  basket- 
makers,  weavers,  etc.,  that  is  to  be  taken  in  the  same  sense 
as  when  we  speak  of  ploughmen,  reapers,  mowers,  thresh- 
ers among  our  peasants,  according  to  the  work  in  which 
they  are  for  the  time  engaged.  We  have  here  to  do  not 
with  special  trades  claiming  the  individual's  whole  activity, 
but  with  arrangements  forming  essential  parts  of  the  econ- 
omy of  each  separate  family.  This  naturally  does  not 
preclude  single  individuals  from  surpassing  in  skilfulness 
the  other  members  of  the  tribe,  just  as  there  are  among 
our  peasant  women  particularly  adept  spinners,  and  among 
the  farmers  horse-breeders  and  bee-keepers  who  win  in 
prize  competitions. 

Travellers  have  often  observed  this  tribal  or  local  de- 
vclopmait  of  industrial  technique.  "  The  native  villages," 
relates  a  Belgian  observer  of  the  Lower  Congo,  "  are  often 
situated  in  groups.  Their  activities  are  based  upon  recip- 
rocality,  and  they  are  to  a  certain  extent  the  complements 
of  one  another.  Each  group  has  its  more  or  less  strongly 
defined  specialty.  One  carries  on  fishing,  another  pro- 
duces palm-wine;  a  third  devotes  itself  to  trade  and  is 
broker  for  the  others,  supplying  the  community  with  all 
products  from  outside;  another  has  reserved  to  itself  work 
in  iron  and  copper,  making  weapons  for  war  and  hunting, 
various  utensils,  etc.  None  may,  however,  pass  beyond 
the  sphere  of  its  own  specialty  without  exposing  itself  to 


■r 
I 

fill 

1  - ,  ^ . 

ill 


ft, 
f  ft-- 


58 


THE  ECONOMIC  UFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


the  risk  of  being  universally  proscribed."  From  the 
Loango  coast  Bastian  tells  of  a  great  number  of  similar 
centres  for  special  products  of  domestic  industry.  Loango 
excels  in  mats  and  fishing-baskets,  while  the  carving  of 
elephants'  tusks  is  specially  followed  in  Chilungo.  The  so- 
called  "  Mafooka "  hats  with  raised  patterns  are  drawn 
chiefly  from  the  bordering  country  of  Kakongo  and  May- 
yumbe.  In  Bakunya  are  made  potter's  wares  which  are  in 
great  demand,  in  Basanza  excellent  swords,  in  Basundi 
especially  beautiful  ornamented  copper  rings,  on  the 
Zaire  clever  wood  and  tablet  carvings,  in  Loango  orna- 
mented cloths  and  intricately  designed  mats,  in  Mayumbe 
clothing  of  finely  woven  mat-work,  in  Kakongo  embroid- 
ered hats  and  also  burnt-clay  pitchers,  and  among  the  Ba- 
yakas  and  Mantetjes  stuffs  of  woven  grass. 

Other  similar  accounts  might  be  cited,  not  merely 
from  Africa,"  but  also  from  the  South  Sea  Islands  and 
even  from  Central  and  South  America."  We  shall  thus 
hardly  err  in  assuming  that  in  these  tribal  industries  the 
controlling  principle  in  the  industrial  development  of  prim- 
itive peoples  has  been  discovered;  that  by  them  was 
furnished  the  means  whereby  the  satisfaction  of  the  needs 
of  the  individual  and  of  whole  groups  was  extended  beyond 
their  own  immediate  powers  of  production.  For  it  may 
be  taken  for  granted  that  an  industrial  product  found  only 
among  those  manufacturing  it,  especially  if  it  attained  to 
some  importance  in  the  simple  life  oi  these  uncivilized  peo- 
ples, would  soon  be  coveted  by  the  surrounding  tribes. 

'*  H.  Schurtz  has  made  a  collection  of  them  in  his  Afr.  Gewerbc,  pp. 
29-65.  He  has  pursued  further,  though  unfortunately  not  far  enough, 
the  subject  of  tribal  industry.  He  has  found  such  industry  so  exten- 
sively in  evidence  i.nat  we  may  assume  the  conditions  of  industrial 
production  here  portrayed  to  exist  wherever  travellers  do  not  ex- 
pressly report  to  the  contrary. 

"  Comp.  K.  Sapper.  Das  Hordl.  Mittel-Amerika  (1897').  pp.  200  flF..  and 
the  further  examples  given  by  us. 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


59 


But  the  way  from  the  coveting  of  an  article  to  its  enjoy- 
ment is  a  longer  one  in  an  economical  organization,  based 
upon  acquisition  directly  by  the  individual  himself,  than 
we  are  inclined  to  assume  in  our  own  social  life,  which  rests 
upon  trade. 

In  fact  decidedly  unclear  conceptions  are  widely  preva- 
lent as  to  the  system  of  exchange  of  primit've  peoples.  We 
know  that  throughout  Central  Africa,  from  the  Portuguese 
possessions  in  the  west  to  the  German  in  the  east,  there  is  a 
market-place  every  few  miles  at  which  the  neighbouring 
tribes  meet  every  fourth  to  sixth  day  to  make  mutual  ex- 
changes. Of  the  Malays  in  Borneo  we  are  told  that  each 
larger  village  possesses  its  weekly  market.  The  first  dis- 
coverers of  the  South  Sea  Islands  give  us  reports  of  distant 
"  trading  trips  "  which  the  natives  undertake  from  island 
to  island  in  order  to  make  mutual  exchanges  of  their  wares. 
In  America  certain  products,  the  raw  material  for  which  is 
to  be  found  only  in  a  single  locality — for  example,  arrow- 
points  and  stone  hatchets  made  of  certain  kinds  of  stone 
— have  been  met  with  scattered  throughout  a  great  part  of 
the  continent."  Even  among  the  aborigines  of  Australia 
there  are  instances  of  certain  natural  products,  such  as 
pitcher-plant  leaves  and  ochre  colour,  which  are  found 
in  but  one  place,  and  yet  circulate  through  a  g^eat  part 
of  the  country.  In  such  phenomena  we  have  a  new  and 
interesting  proof  of  the  civilizing  power  of  trade;  and 
in  the  primeval  history  of  Europe  itself  this  power  has 
everywhere  been  assumed  as  operative  when  industrial 
products  have  been  brought  to  light  through  excavations 
or  otherwise  far  from  their  original  place  of  production. 
Our  prehistoric  studies  have  woven  together  a  whole 
spider's  web  of  suppositions  and  have  even  brought  us  to 

"  Waitz.  Ill,  p    75;  on  markets  in  South  America.  Ill,  p.  380:  on 
others  in  Mexico,  IV,  pp.  99  ff. 


II 


m''i 


m 


ii- 

I  I    ^ 

i 
i 


ritfi 

I  Hi! 


i:  i  ^1 


tf 


I   ^Sl 


60 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMHWE  PEOPLE. 


speak  of  prehistoric  '*  industrial  districts."  Our  ethno- 
graphic literature  speaks  similarly  of  industrial  localities 
for  the  manufacture  of  arms  and  the  plaiting  of  mats  in 
Borneo,  for  pottery  at  several  points  in  New  Guinea,  for 
boat-building  in  several  coast  districts  of  the  Duke  of  York 
Archipelago,  for  iron-working  in  negro  countries,  etc. 

In  opposition  to  this  it  must  be  asserted  positively  that 
trade  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  regarded  by  national  econ- 
omy— that  is,  in  the  sense  of  the  systematic  purchase  of 
wares  with  the  object  of  a  profitable  re-sale  as  an  organized 
vocation— can  nowhere  be  discovered  among  primitive 
peoples.  Where  we  meet  native  traders  in  Africa,  it  is  a 
question  either  of  intermediary  activity  prompted  by  Eu- 
ropean and  Arabian  merchants,  or  of  occurrences  peculiar 
to  the  semi-civilization  of  the  Soudan.  Otherwise  the  only 
exchange  known  to  the  natives  everywhere  is  exchange 
from  tribe  to  tribe.  This  is  due  to  the  unequal  dis- 
tribution of  the  gifts  of  nature  and  to  the  varying  develop- 
ment of  industrial  technique  among  the  different  tribes. 
As  between  the  members  of  the  same  tribe,  however,  no 
regular  exchange  from  one  household  establishment  to 
another  takes  place.  Nor  can  it  arise,  since  that  voca- 
tional division  of  the  population  is  lacking  which  alone 
could  give  rise  to  an  enduring  interdependence  of  house- 
holds. 

One  fancies  the  gemns  of  exchange  to  have  been  very 
easy  because  civilized  man  is  accusiomed  to  find  all  that 
he  needs  ready  made  at  the  market  or  store  and  to  be  able 
to  obtain  it  for  money.  With  primitive  man,  however, 
before  he  became  acquainted  with  more  highly  devel- 
oped peoples,  value  and  price  were  by  no  means  current 
conceptions.  The  first  discoverers  of  Australia  found  in- 
variably, both  on  the  continent  and  on  the  neighbouring 
islands  that  th«  aborigines   had   no  conception  of  ex- 


i  f 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITiyE  PEOPLE. 


6i 


change."  The  ornaments  offered  them  had  no  power 
whatever  to  arouse  their  interest;  gifts  pressed  upon 
them  were  found  later  on  strewn  about  in  the  woods 
where  they  had  been  cast  in  neglect.  Ehrenreich  ^^  and 
K.  V.  der  Steinen  2"  had  as  late  as  1887  the  same  experi- 
ence among  the  Indian  tribes  of  Brazil,  Yet  there 
was  from  tribe  to  tribe  a  brisk  trade  in  pots,  stone  hatchets, 
hammocks,  cotton  threads,  necklaces  of  mussel-shells,  and 
many  other  products.  How  was  this  possible  in  the  ab- 
sence of  barter  and  trade? 

The  solution  oi  this  riddle  is  simple  enough,  and  has 
now  been  confirmed  by  direct  observation  on  the  spot, 
while  previously  it  could  only  be  assumed.  The  transfer 
ensues  by  way  of  presevts,  and  also,  according  to  circum- 
stances, by  way  of  robbery,  spoils  of  war,  tribute,  line,  com- 
pensation, and  winnings  in  gaming.  As  to  sustenance,  al- 
most a  community  of  goods  prevails  between  members  ot 
the  same  tribes.  It  is  looked  upon  as  theft  if  a  herd  of  cat- 
tle is  slaughtered  and  not  shared  with  one's  neighbour,  or 
if  one  is  eating  and  neglects  to  invite  a  passer-by.  Anyone 
can  enter  a  hut  at  will  and  demand  food;  and  he  is  never 
refused.  Whole  communities,  if  u  poor  harvest  befall,  visit 
their  neighbours  and  look  to  them  for  temporary  support. 
For  articles  of  use  and  implements  there  exists  the  uni- 
versal custom  of  loaning  which  really  assumes  the  character 
of  a  duty;  and  there  is  no  private  ownership  of  the  soil. 
Thus  within  the  tribe  where  all  households  produce  similar 
commodities  and,  in  case  of  need,  assist  each  other,  and 
•where  surplus  stores  can  only  be  utilized  for  consumption, 
there  is  no  occasion  for  direct  barter  from  establishment 
to  establishment.     Exceptions  occur  when  purchasing  a 

"Documentary  proof  in  Ztschr.  f.  Sozial-  u.  Wirtschaftsgesch..  IV, 
pp.  S  flF.  (Sartorius  v.  Waltershausen). 
" Beitrdge  :.  I'olkerkunde  Rrasihens,  p.  53, 
"  Unler  d.  Natun>olkern  Central- Brasiliens  (2d  ed.),  pp.  287  ff. 


m 


■11 

■  ,  I 


:■.;! 


62 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


wife  and  making  presents  to  tne  medicine-man,  the  singer, 
the  dancer,  and  the  minstrel,  who  are  the  only  persons 
carrying  on  a  species  of  separate  occupations. 

From  tribe  to  tribe  there  prevail  rules  of  hospitality,^^ 
which  recur  with  tolerable  imilarity  among  all  primitive 
peoples.  The  stranger  on  arriving  receives  a  present, 
which  after  a  certain  interval  he  reciprocates;  and  at  his 
departure  still  another  present  is  handed  him.^'  On  both 
sides  wishes  may  be  expressed  with  regard  to  these  gifts. 
In  this  way  it  is  possible  to  obtain  things  required  or  de- 
sired; and  success  is  the  more  assured  inasmuch  as  neither 
party  is  absolved  from  the  obligations  of  hospitality  until 
the  other  declares  himself  satisfied  with  the  presents. 

That  this  custom  of  reciprocal  gifts  of  hospitality  per- 
mits rare  products  of  a  land  or  artistic  creations  of  a  tribe 
to  circulate  from  people  to  people,  and  to  cover  just  as 
long  distances  from  their  place  of  origin  as  to-day  does 
trade,  will  perhaps  become  more  apparent  to  us  when  we 
consider  how  legends  and  myths  have  in  the  same  way 
been  enabled  to  spread  over  half  the  A^orld.  It  is  almost 
inconceivable  that  this  could  have  been  so  long  overlooked 
when  even  in  Homer  the  custom  of  gifts  of  hospitality  is 
attested  by  so  many  examples.  Telemachos  brings  home 
from  Sparta  as  present  from  Menelaos  a  bowl  of  silver 
which  the  latter  had  himself  received  in  Sidon  as  a  gift  of 
hospitality  from  King  Phaidimos,  and  his  father  Odys- 
seus receives  from  the  Phaiakes  garments  and  linen  and 
articles  of  gold  as  well  as  a  whole  collection  of  tripods  and 
basins.  All  this  he  conceals  on  his  arrival,  as  is  well 
known,  in  the  sacred  grove  of  the  nymphs  in  his  native 
rocky  island  of  Ithaca.     Think  of  the  poet's  narration  as 

"  On  this  oo-.it  cotnp.  K.  Haberland,  Die  Gastfrcundschaft  auf  nied. 
KuUurstufen:  Ausland  (1878),  pp.  282  flF. 

"Gift-making  without  recompense  Lciutigs  un'iy  fo  a  higher  stage  of 
civilization:  A.  M.  Meyer,  Ztschr.  f.  deutsch,  Kuhurgesch.,  V,  pp.  18  fT. 


.■*! 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


63 


a''.;d  toi  3U1  ()urt  i. 

■'"nr.i.ei;    ir 


liOl. 


le 


.  uy 


•■an. 


s  have 

ion  from 

7.;ntral  Aus- 

kes  for  a 

gift  an  object 

V.  or  of  per- 


aaei 


an  historical  occurrence,  and  imagine  what  would  have 
happened  had  Odysseus  been  recognised  by  the  wooers  at 
the  right  moment  and  slain;  the  presents  of  the  Phaiakes 
would  have  rested  well  concealed  in  the  gfrotio  of  the 
nymphs  down  to  our  own  times,  and  would  have  been 
brought  to  light  again  by  a  moden;  .archaeologist.  Would 
he  not  have  explained  the  wholf  treasu  -e  as  the  storehouse 
of  a  travelling  merchant  of  '  .e  I-  nif  15;^'  ^.l  'Tellas,  es- 
pecially as  he  could  have  app  a' .;d  tor  3ui  purt  w  •  le  actual 
barter  which  occurs  quite  c 
Among  many  primitive  ^, 
been  preserved  which  cU  r,^  ..!■  .1;  ^'•: 
presents  to  exchange,  ^ii.ory^  'u  1  . 
tralia,  for  instance,  a  man  <  :  >  ■  "i 
present  the  task  of  procuring  ?s  recinrocii 
that  another  desires,  or  of  buiu.  '  loi  Iii 
formi..^  some  other  service.  The  one  thus  bound  is  called 
yutschin,  and  until  the  fulfilment  of  the  obligation  wears  a 
cord  about  his  neck.  As  a  rule  the  desired  object  is  to  be 
procured  from  a  distance.^'"  In  New  Zealand  the  natives 
on  the  Wanganui  river  make  use  of  parrots,  which  they 
catch  in  great  numbers,  roast,  and  preserve  in  fat,  in  order 
to  obtain  dried  fish  from  their  fe!lo"'-countrymen  in  other 
parts  of  the  island."^  Among  the  Indian  tribes  of  Cen- 
tral Brazil  trade  is  still  an  mterchange  of  gifts  of  hospi- 
tality; and  the  Bakairis  translate  the  Portuguese  cotr'>rcr, 
to  btiy,  by  a  word  signifying  '  to  sit  down,'  becaub  ■  the 
guest  must  be  seated  before  he  receives  his  present.  In 
the  countries  of  the  Soudan  the  co.";stant  giving  of  pres- 
ents frequently  becomes  burdensoine  to  the  traveller 
"  since  it  is  often  only  a  concealed  begging."  "  The  gifts 
of  hospitality  that  are  received  in  the  camp,"  remarks 

"A   \V.  TTowitt  in  Journal  of  Anthrop.  Inst,  XX  (1891),  pp.  76  ff. 

**  Shortland,  Tfaditions  and  Sttl'erst-.tijtt.i  of  Ike  Nctv  Zealanders  (Lon- 
don, 1856),  pp.  214,  215. 


:        -              i 
1        ■          '    -* 

>           1 

64 


THE  ECONOMIC  UFE  OF  PRIMITiyE  PEOPLE. 


Staudinger,^''  "  are  in  accord  with  good  custom  and  are 
often  very  welcome.  But  with  every  stop  in  a  larger  town 
things  are  frequently  obtained  from  high  and  low  which  are 
ostensibly  given  as  a  mark  of  respect  to  the  white  man; 
in  reality  they  arrive  only  because  the  donors  expect  a 
three-  or  four-fold  response  from  the  liberality  of  the  Euro- 
pean. Indeed  I  am  convinced  that  many  a  poor  woman 
has  herself  first  purchased  the  hen  or  duck  that  is  to  be 
presented  in  order  to  do  a  profitable  piece  of  gift  business 
with  it." 

The  Indians  of  British  Guiana  appear  to  stand  at  the  in- 
termediate stage  between  gift-making  and  trading.  Im 
Thurm  reports  of  them:  " 

••  There  exists  among  the  tribes  of  this,  as  oi  probably  every  other 
similar  district,  a  rough  system  of  distribution  of  labour;  and  this 
serves  not  only  its  immediate  purpose  of  supplying  all  the  tribes  with 
better-made  articles  than  each  could  make  for  itself,  but  also  brings 
the  different  tribes  together  and  spreads  among  them  ideas  and  news 
of  general  interest.  .  .  .  Each  tribe  has  some  manufacture  peculiar 
to  itself;  and  its  members  constantly  visit  the  other  tribes,  often 
hostile,  for  the  purpose  of  exchanging  the  products  of  their  own 
labour  for  such  as  arc  produced  only  by  the  other  tribes.  These 
trading  Indians  are  allowed  to  pass  unmolested  through  the  enemy's 
country.  .  .  Of  the  tribes  on  the  coast,  the  Warraus  make  far  the 
best  canoes,  and  supply  these  to  the  neighbouring  tribes.  They  also 
make  hammocks  of  a  peculiar  kind,  which  are  not,  however,  much 
in  rctjuest  e.xcept  among  tlicnisclvcs.  In  the  same  way,  far  in  the 
interior,  the  Wapiaiias  build  boats  for  all  the  tribos  in  that  district. 
The  Macusis  have  two  special  products  which  are  in  great  demand 
amongst  all  the  tribes.  One  is  the  ourali.  used  for  poisoning  arrows 
and  the  darts  of  blowpipes,  the  other  is  an  abundance  of  cotton  ham- 
mocks; for,  though  these  are  now  often  made  by  the  Wapianas  .md 
True  Caribs,  the  Macusis  are  the  chief  makers.  The  Arecunas  grow, 
spin,  and  distribute  most  of  the  cotton  which  is  used  by  the  Macusis 
.ind  others  for  hamnocks  and  other  articles.  The  Arecunas  also  sup- 
ply all  blowpipes;  f(,r  these  are  made  of  the  stems  of  a  palm  which, 

"/m  Hcrstn  d.  Ilaussaliindcr  (2d  cd).  pp.  216.  217  Comp.  Sachau, 
Retsen  in  Syricn  u.  Mesofotamien,  p.  loi;  v.  Hiigel,  Kaschmir,  pp.  406, 
40;. 

"  /trnong  the  Indians  of  Guiana  (London,  188.O,  pp.  270-273- 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITiyE  PEOPLE. 


65 


growing  only  in  and  beyond  the  Venezuelan  boundary  of  their  terri- 
tory, are  procured  by  the  Arecunas,  doubtless  by  exchange,  from  the 
Indians  of  the  native  district  of  that  palm.  The  Tarumas  and  the 
Woyowais  have  a  complete  monopoly  of  the  manufacture  of  the 
graters  on  which  Indians  of  all  the  tribes  grate  their  cassava.  These 
two  remote  tribes  are  also  the  great  breeders  and  trainers  of  hunting- 
dogs.  .  .  .  The  True  Caribs,  again,  are  the  most  skilful  potters;  and 
though  the  Arawaks  frequently,  and  the  other  Indians  occasionally, 
make  vessels  for  their  own  use,  yet  these  are  by  no  means  as  good  as 
those  which,  whenever  possible,  they  obtain  from  the  Caribs.  The 
Arawaks  make  fibre  hammocks  of  a  kind  peculiar  to  them.  .  .  .  The 
Ackawoi  alone,  so  far  as  I  know,  have  no  special  product  interchange- 
able for  those  of  their  neighbours.  These  Indians  are  especially 
dreaded  and  disliked  by  all  the  others;  and  it  is  possible  that  the  want 
of  intercourse  thus  occasioned  between  this  tribe  and  the  others  forced 
the  Ackawoi  to  produce  for  themselves  all  that  they  required.  It  is 
further  possible  that  to  this  enforced  self-dependence  is  due  the  miser- 
able condition  of  most  of  the  Ackawoi. 

"  To  interchange  their  manufactures  the  Indians  make  long  jour- 
neys. The  Wapianas  visit  the  countries  of  the  Tarumas  and  the 
Woyowais,  carrying  with  them  canoes,  cotton  hamnn-cks,  and  now 
very  frequently  knives,  beads,  and  other  European  goods;  and,  leav- 
ing their  canoes  and  other  merchandise,  they  walk  back,  carrying  with 
them  a  supply  of  cassava-graters,  and  leading  hunting-t'ogs,  all  which 
things  they  have  received  in  i  hange  for  the  things  which  they  took. 
The  Macusis  visit  the  Wapiana  settlements  to  obtain  graters  i.  \ 
dogs,  for  which  they  give  ourali-poison  and  cotton  hammocks;  and 
they  again  carry  such  of  these  graters  and  dogs  as  they  do  not  them- 
selves require,  together  with  more  of  their  own  ouralt  and  of  their 
cotton  hammocks,  to  other  Indians — to  the  Arecunas.  wlio  j;ivc  in 
return  balls  of  cotton  or  blowpipes;  or  to  the  True  Caribs.  who  pay 
in  pottery." 

Once  originated  exchange  lonj?  retains  the  marks  of  its 

descent  in  the  rules  that  are  attached  to  it  and  which  are 

taken  directly  from  the  customs  connected  with  gifts.  This 

is  manifested,  in  the  fir.st  place,  in  the  custom  of  payment 

in  advance  which  dominates  trade  nmonjT  primitive  pej- 

pies."     The  medicine-man  does  not  stir  his  hand  to  .lelp 

"  Even  Europc.in  merchants  trading  in  .^fri^M  must  accommodate 
themselves  to  this  custom  'by  advancing  to  the  black  interniediarics 
whose  services  they  call  into  re<|uisition  the  price  of  the  commodities 
that  arc  .0  be  supplied.     Conip.  Pogge.  pp.  11,  140,  141;  M.  Buchner, 


66 


THE  ECONOMIC  UFE  OF  PRIMITIl^E  PEOPLE. 


\  H 


■   f 


the  sick  until  he  has  received  from  the  sick  man's  relatives 
his  fee,  which  in  this  case  closely  resembles  the  present, 
and  has  openly  announced  his  satisfaction.  No  purchase 
is  complete  until  buyer  and  seller  have  before  witnesses 
declared  themselves  satisfied  with  the  objects  received. 
Among  many  peoples  a  gift  precedes  or  follows  a  deal;  *• 
the  "  good  measures  "  of  our  village  storekeepers,  and 
"treating"  are  survivals  of  this  custom.  To  decline 
without  grounds  an  exchange  that  has  been  offered  passes 
among  the  negroes  as  an  insult,  just  as  the  refusal  of  a 
gift  among  ourselves.  The  idea  that  services  interchanged 
must  be  of  equal  value  can  hardly  be  made  intelligible  to 
primitive  man.  The  boy  who  performs  a  bit  of  work  ex- 
pects the  same  pay  as  the  man,  and  the  one  who  has 
assisted  for  one  hour  just  as  much  as  the  one  who  has 
laboured  a  whole  day;  and  as  the  greed  on  both  sides 
knows  no  bounds,  every  trading  transaction  is  preceded 
by  long  negotiations.  Sii;  lar  negotiations,  however,  are 
also  the  rule  in  the  discharge  of  gifts  of  hospitality  if  the 
recipient  does  not  find  the  donation  in  keeping  with  his 
dignity. 

As  time  passes  exchange  creates  from  tribe  to  tribe  its 
own  contrivances  for  facilitating  matters.  The  most  im- 
portant of  these  are  markets  and  money. 

Markets  are  uniformly  held  among  negroes.  East  Indi- 
ans, and  Polynesians  in  open  places,  often  in  the  midst  of 
the  primeval  forests,  on  the  tribal  borders.  They  form  neu- 
tral districts  within  which  all  tribal  hostilities  must  cease; 
whoever  violates  the  market-peace  exposes  himself  to  the 
severest  punishments.  Each  tribe  brings  to  the  market 
KamfTHH.  pp.  98,  99.  Even  the  sacrifice  to  the  deity  seems  to  the  peo- 
ples of  '.hi-s  staKc  only  payment  in  advance  for  an  expected  service: 
Heckewtlder.  Indian  Xations.  pp.  2ti  fT. ;  and  comp.  pp.  j^i.  j.^fi 

"  Schurt/.  F.ntslfh  Gesch.  d  Geldes.  pp.  67,  6a  Landor,  In  the  For- 
bidden Land  (Tibe<),  I,  p.  ,115:  II.  p.  7& 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRlMITiyE  PEOPLE.  67 

whatever  is  peculiar  to  it:  one  honey,  another  palm-wine, 
a  third  dried  meat,  still  another  earthenware  or  mats  or 
woven  stuffs."    The  object  of  the  interchange  is  to  ob- 
tain products  that  cannot  be  procured  in  one's  own  tribe 
at  all,  or  at  least -cannot  be  produced  so  well  and  so  artis- 
tically as  in  neighbouring  tribes.     This  must-  agam  lead 
each  tribe  to  produce  in  greater  quantities  than  it  requires 
those  products  which  are  valued  among  the  tribes,  not  pro- 
ducing them,  because  in  exchange  for  these  it  is  easiest  to 
obtam  that  which  one  does  not  possess  one's  self,  but 
which  others  manufacture  in  surplus  quantities.     In  each 
tribe,    however,    every   household   produces   the    current 
market  commodity  of  exchange  that  enjoys  this  prefer- 
ence.   Hence  it  follows,  when  it  is  a  question  of  a  product 
of  house  industry,  such  as  earthenware  or  wares  made  of 
bark,  that  whole  villages  and  tribal  areas  appear  to  travel- 
lers to  be  great  industrial  districts,  although  there  are  no 
specialized  artisans,  and  although  each   household  pro- 
duces everything  that  it  requires  with  tlie  exception  of  the 
few  articles  made  only  among  other  tribes  which  they  have 
grown  accustomed  to  and  which  exchange  procures  for 
them  merely  as  supplements  to  houshold  production. 

Such  is  the  simple  mechmism  of  the  market  among 
primitive  peoples.  Now  with  regard  to  monfy.  How 
much  has  been  written  and  imagined  about  the  many 
species  of  money  among  primitive  peoples.""  and  yet  how 

"AlthnuKh  many  primitive  iH-.^.k-s  ran  l.c  to.m.l  roadv  to  jjive 
every tli.n^  for  ICiiropcan  wares  that  tlu-y  have  co,„e  t,.  kruw  and 
value,  yet  their  rev;„lar  exchange  remains  alto^iether  u„e -ulcd  and 
cnnfmed  to  •,  iVw  artu-le..  Man>  ohj^ct.  of  .l.nlv  „-,.  are  nm  t„  be 
had  from  them  at  any  price,  especially  ol.ieets  of  a.lorn.nent  Comp 
I'.nseh,  Samoafahrtcn.  pp.  ,08.  ,10,  .«)(,,  .-S,,  f,,  ,,,^:  Martmx  ctcd 
above,  pp,  K.).  5()(,;  Zt-.lir    f    FlhnoKr..  WIl.  pp    _> ,   (,j. 

'-"!<  .■\tMlrre,  t-.thn,^^r.  r,:n,llcl,„  ./.  /  VrcA  ;,/).•,  pp  ....,  (T  O  I.en/. 
I  chcr  i.dd  hi-i  d.  \\UufVi.',k,-rn  ( HamhnrK.  1S-J5).  R  Ilwof.  Tausch- 
kiindd  u   Celdsurrogatc  m  alter  u.  neucr  /.at  (Gra/,  1882).     II.  Schurz, 


68 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE, 


'  I 


i 


simple  the  explanation  of  their  origin !    The  money  of  each 
tribe  is  that  trading  commodity   ivhich   it   does  not  itself 
produce,  but  which  it  regularly  acquires  from  other  tribes 
by  way  of  exchange.     For  such  article  naturally  becomes 
for  it  the  universal  medium  of  exchange  for  which  it  sur- 
renders its  wares.    It  is  its  measure  of  value  according  to 
which  it  values  its  property,  which  could  in  no  other  way 
be  made  exchangeable.    It  is  its  wealth,  for  it  cannot  in- 
crease it  at  will.    F°llow  tribesmen  soon  come  to  employ 
it  also  in  transferring  values,  for  because  of  its  scarcity  it 
is  equally  welcome  to  all.    Thus  is  explained  what  our  trav- 
ellers have  frequently  observed,  that  in  each  tribe,  often 
indeed  from  village  to  village,  a  different  money  is  current, 
and  that  a  species  of  mussel-shells  or  pearls  or  cotton  stuf? 
for  which  everything  can  be  purchased  to-day,  is  in  the 
locality  of  the  following  evening's  camp  no  longer  ac- 
cepted by  anyone.  The  consetinence  is  that  they  must  first 
purchase  the  current  commodities  of  exchange  before  they 
can  supply  their  own  needs  in  the  market.     In  this  way, 
also,  is  to  be  explained  the  further  fact,  which  has  come 
under  observation,  that  exchangeable  commodities  nat- 
urally scarce,  such  as  salt,  cauri  shells,  and  bars  of  cop- 
per, or  products  of  rare  skill,  such  as  brass  wire,  iron 
spades,  and  earthen  cups,  are  taken  as  money  by  many 
tribes  not  possessing  them;  and  above  all  is  to  be  men- 
tioned the  well-known  circumstance  of  objects  of  foreign 
trade,  such  as  European  calicoes,  guns,  ponder,  knives, 
becoming  general  mediums  of  exchange. 

Certain  varieties  of  money  thus  secure  a  more  extensive 
area  of  circulation.  They  can  even  make  their  way  into 
the  internal  trade  of  the  tribal  members  through  employ- 
ment as  mediums  of  payment  \u  the  juirchase  of  a  bride,  for 

Balntge  r.    r.ntsli'huv-Rcsch    d.   („ldi\i:    Deutsche   Ucogr.   Dldltcr   (Bre- 
men). .\X  (iSfj;),  ip.  1-'/'.     Itiicrn.  Archiv  f,  Ethtiogr.,  VI,  p.  57. 


,:    ft 


:•* 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITiyE  PEOPLE. 


69 


compensations,  taxes,  and  the  like;  certain  kinds  of  con- 
tracts are  concluded  in  them.  But  there  is  no  instance 
of  a  primitive  people,  in  the  absence  of  European  influence, 
attaining  to  a  currency  or  legal  medium  of  payment  for 
obligations  of  every  kind  and  extent.  It  is  rather  the  rule 
that  various  species  of  money  remain  in  concurrent  circu- 
lation; and  very  often  certain  obligations  can  be  paid  only 
in  certain  kinds.  Changes  in  the  variety  of  money  are 
not  infrequent;  but  on  the  other  hand  we  sometimes  find 
that  a  species  will  long  survive  the  trade  of  the  tribes  from 
which  it  has  gone  forth,  and  will  continue  to  serve  in  the 
inner  transactions  of  a  tribe,  playing  a  singular,  almost 
demoniacal,  role,  although,  as  regards  their  means  of  sus- 
tenance, the  members  of  the  tribe  have  nothing  to  buy  and 
sell  to  one  another.  From  an  old  interrupted  tribal  trade 
of  this  nature  is  to  be  explained  the  employment  as  money 
of  old  Chinese  porcelain  vessels  among  the  Bagobos  in 
Mindanao  and  the  Dyaks  in  Borneo,  the  shells  (dewarra) 
of  the  Melanesians.  and  the  peculiar  kinds  of  money  of 
the  Caroline  Archipelago,  for  which  special  laws  and  ad- 
ministrative contrivances  are  necessary  in  order  to  keep 
this  dead  possession  in  circulation  at  all.^*  Otherwise  the 
State  does  not  interfere  as  a  rule  in  these  matters;  and  in 
the  large  territorial  formations  of  Africa,  such  as  the  king- 
dom of  Muata  Yamwo.  for  instance,  there  are  therefore 
different  currencies  from  tribe  to  tribe.  But  even  where 
one  kind  of  money  gains  a  greater  area  of  circulation,  its 
value  fluctuates  widely  at  the  various  market-places: 
generally,  however,  it  advances  in  proportion  to  the  dis- 
tance from  its  source.^*' 

"  WV  cannot  rntir  luri-  more  in  dct.iil  info  these  matters,  and  would 
refer  to  the  interesting  descriptions  of  Kubary,  Etknog.  Beitrdge  s. 
Kcnntms  d   C:irfltmfn-Archi(<cls.  pp.  i  fT..  and  Parkinson,  pp.  79,  loi  flf. 

'"Thus  Ccrohi  reports,  funf  Jahrc  m  Ostafrika.  p.  2-\:  "  .Xccordinff 
to  the  higher  or  lower  value  of  the  salt  bar  in  the  markets  of  this 


70 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


W 


iJ 


Markets  and  money  are  intimately  related  so  far  as 
money  in  its  character  as  a  medium  of  exchange  comes  un- 
der consideration.  But  not  every  individual  species  of 
money  that  is  met  with  among  a  primitive  people  has 
necessarily  arisen  from  market  trade.  In  its  full  develop- 
ment money  is  such  an  involved  social  phenomenon  that 
it  is  natural  to  suppose  that  various  influences  associated 
with  its  past  have  been  united  in  it.  Thus,  for  instance, 
the  origin  of  cattle-money  seems  to  be  bound  up  with  the 
fact  that,  among  the  peoples  referred  to,  the  domestic  ani- 
mals represented  the  wealth  and  the  means  of  gathering 
wealth.  That  for  the  purchase  of  a  bride  and  for  similar 
ends  many  tribes  do  not  receive  the  current  money,  but 
f  such  purposes  prescribe  certain  other  objects  of  worth, 
a  :)ears  to  point  to  the  admissibility  of  the  assumption  that 
the  complete  development  of  money,  along  with  the 

un  current,  various  subsidiary  streams  may  have  played 


art 


31 


7rom  the  standpoint  of  the  total  cultural  progress  of 

'f  Ea  •  Africa  one  could  roughly  estimate  the  distance  from  the 

whe     0  this  money  comes,  and  also  judge  of  the  more  or  less 

icabl'     ature  of  the  routes  over  which  the  caravans  transport  it. 

-  in  •       reality  of  its  origin,  for  one  thaler  one  receives  among 

the  T.-  cording  to  the  statements  of  several  travellers,  several 

hii    -  bars.    In  Uorallu,  the  northern  market  of  Schao,  lying  a 

<li--ta!         'f  some  two  hundred  miles  from  the  country  of  the  Taltal, 

;'.>  va        hictuatcs  between  fifteen  and  twenty  for  the  thaler.    In  .^n- 

coIkt.  ciahty  miles  from  Uorailu,  the  value  sinks  back  to  nine  and 

nine  ;ind  a  half,  and  in  Gera,  two  hundred  and  thirty  miles  beyond 

Ancobcr,   one   receives,   according  to   circumstances,    only    six.    five. 

four,  or  three  salt  bars  per  thaler." 

"Perhaps  Karl  Marx  rishtly  expresses  it  when  he  tersely  remarks: 
"  The  money-form  attaches  itself  either  to  the  most  important  articles 
of  exchange  from  outside,  and  these  in  fact  arc  primuivc  and  natural 
forms  in  which  the  exchange-value  of  h<ime  product"  find-,  expression; 
or  else  it  attaches  itself  to  the  object  of  utility  that  f.)rnis,  like  cattle, 
the  chief  portion  of  indigenous  alienable  wealth." — Capital  (London, 
1891),  p  6i. 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


71 


mankind  the  most  important  result  of  this  survey,  how- 
ever, remains,  that  money  as  the  favourite  exchange  com- 
modity furnished  a  medium  that  bound  together  men  from 
tribe  to  tribe  in  regular  peaceful  trade,  and  prepared  the 
way  for  a  differentiation  of  tribes  in  the  matter  of  produc- 
tion. In  the  circumstance  that  all  members  of  the  same 
tribe  or  village  preferably  carried  on,  along  with  the  earn- 
ing of  their  sustenance,  other  work  of  a  definite  type,  lay 
the  possibility  of  an  advance  in  technical  knowledge  and 
dexterity.  It  was  an  international,  or  interlocal,  division  of 
labour  in  miniature,  which  only  much  later  was  succeeded 
by  division  of  labour  from  individual  to  individual  within 
the  nation,  or  the  locality.  Moreover  the  direct  importance 
of  the  market  for  personal  intercourse  at  this  stage  must 
not  be  undervalued,  especially  in  lands  where  trading  out- 
side the  market  is  so  unusual  that  even  travellers  wishing 
to  buy  something  direct  are  regularly  refused  with  the 
words  "  come  to  market."  In  this  one  is  involuntarily  re- 
minded of  the  prominent  position  that  the  market  occu- 
pied in  the  social  and  political  life  of  the  peoples  of  classical 
antiquity. 

But  it  is  always  a  very  onesided  development,  permitting 
only  to  individual  tribes  the  organization  of  production 
and  trade  just  descriljed.  In  this  way  is  to  be  explained 
that  most  extraordinary  phenomenon  that  in  the  interior 
of  continents  where  no  difficulties  in  communication  op- 
pose the  passage  of  certain  attainments  in  technical  skill 
from  tribe  to  tribe,  it  has  been  possible  for  jieoplcs  of 
very  primitive  economic  stamp  to  remain  unchanged  by 
the  side  of  others  of  higher  development  throughout 
thousands  of  voars.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  exam- 
ples of  this  nature  is  ofTere<l  in  Central  Africa  by  the  pigmy 
race  of  the  Batuas  or  Akkas.  still  standing  at  the  stage  of 
the  lower  nomads,  which  keeps  strictiv  within  the  zone  of 


72  THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 

the  primitive  forest,  but  on  definite  days  appears  at  the 
market-places  of  the  surrounding  negro  tribes  to  exchange 
its  chief  economic  product,  dried  meat  of  animals  killed  in 
the  hunt,  for  bananas,  ground-nuts,  maize,  and  the  like.  In 
fact  in  some  parts  even  a  more  primitive  form  of  trading 
has  been  maintained  between  these  pigmy  people  and  their 
neighbours,  in  that  at  the  period  when  thd  fruit  is  ripe 
the  Batuas  break  into  the  fields  of  the  negroes,  steal  bana- 
nas, tubers,  and  corn,  and  leave  behind  an  equivalent  in 
meat.3*  The  fact  that  the  Batuas  are  clever  hunters  ap- 
pears here  to  have  caused  the  neighbouring  tribes  to  neg- 
lect the  production  of  meat  through  hunting  and  cattle- 
raising.  On  the  other  hand  it  is  said  that  the  pigmies  do 
not  even  make  their  own  weapons,  but  procure  them  in 
trade  from  the  Momsus  and  other  tribes. 

Of  this  one-sided  development  another  and  much  more 
wide-spread  example  is  offered  by  the  smiths,  who  not 
merely  among  many  tribes  of  Africa  but  sporadically  in 
Asia  and  in  southeastern  Europe  form  a  hereditarily  dis- 
tinct caste,  whose  members,  whether  regarded  with  bash- 
ful awe  or  contempt,  can  neither  enter  into  a  marital  nor 

"Casati,  Zehn  Jahre  in  Aequatoria,  I,  p.  151.  Schweinfurth,  The 
Heart  of  Africa,  II.  pp.  83  ff.  Dr.  W.  Junker's  Travels  in  Africa,  III, 
pp.  8s,  86.  Wissmann,  Wolf,  etc.,  /m  Intiern  Afrikas,  pp.  256,  258  ff.  A. 
similar  report  is  given  by  W.  Geiger  (Ceylon),  Tagebuchbldttcr  u. 
Reiseerittnerungen  (Wiesbaden,  1897),  of  the  Veddahs:  "The  method 
by  which  the  Veddah  is  able  to  procure  his  arrow-points— which  he 
does  not  make  himself— is  interesting.  He  betakes  himself  under 
cover  of  ni^ht  to  the  dwelling  of  a  Singhalese  smith,  and  places  in 
front  of  it  a  leaf  t<)  which  the  desired  shape  is  given.  To  this  he  adds 
a  present  o^  some  kind,  wild  honey,  the  skin  of  an  animal,  or  some- 
thing similar.  During  one  of  the  following  nights  he  returns  and 
expects  to  find  the  object  ordered  finished.  If  he  is  satisfied,  he  will 
deposit  another  special  gift.  The  smiths  never  refuse  to  execute  the 
orders  at  once.  If  they  do.  tluy  may  be  certain  at  the  next  oppor- 
tunity to  bo  made  the  target  f..^  :in  arrow.  Moreover  their  labour  is 
abundantly  rewarded  by  what  t       Veddah  gives  in  return." 


THE  ECONOMIC  UFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


73 


Other  social  alliance  with  the  rest  of  the  people."  This 
strange  phenomenon  has  hitherto  been  explained  as  a 
matter  of  remnants  of  subject  tribes  preserving  to  their 
conquerors  the  art  of  metal-working,  which  had  other- 
wise perished,  because  the  victorious  race  was  ignorant  of 
it.  It  is,  however,  also  conceivable  that  a  voluntary  dis- 
persal of  such  tribes  took  place  and  that  ti.e  very  differ- 
ence of  nationality,  coupled  with  the  carrying  on  of  an 
esoteric  art,  placed  them  wherever  they  settled  outside  the 
community  of  the  people. 

In  individual  instances  the  carrying  on  of  such  a  tribal 
industry  in  this  exclusive  manner  leads  to  the  rise  of  what 
travellers  usually  designate  now  as  industrial  peoples,  be- 
cause they  do  work  for  all  their  neighbours;  now  as  trading 
peoples,  because  one  meets  them  in  all  the  markets  of  a 
more  extensive  district,  and  because  they  monopolize  the 
trade  in  certain  wares.  We  have  an  instance  of  the  former, 
when  the  consumers  resort  to  the  district  where  a  special 
tribal  industry  flourishes,  in  order  to  get  the  desired  wares 
at  the  seat  of  manufacture;  of  the  latter,  when  the  pro- 
ducers bring  to  the  tribes  lacking  them  such  wares  as  they 
produce  beyond  their  own  requirements. 

As  an  example  of  the  first  form  of  this  evolution,  the 
little  tribe  of  the  Osakas  may  be  cited,  which  has  its  home 
in  the  valley  of  the  Ogowe  to  the  east  of  the  Lolo  River. 
Lenz^*  reports  concerning  it:  "  The  Osakas  are  divided 
into  five  or  six  villages,  each  of  which  contains  sixty  to  a 
hundred  huts;  compared  with  their  numerically  so  im- 
portant neighbours,  such  as  the  Fans  and  the  Oshebo- 
Adumas,  they  are  thus  destined  to  play  an  altogether 
passive  role  in  the  history  of  those  countries.  In  spite  of 
this,  however,  the  Osakas  appear  to  be  not  altogether  in- 

"  R.  Andree.  pp.  15,1  ff 

"  Mittheil.  d.  gfogr   Gesell.  in  Wien  (i8r8),  p.  476- 


74 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMmVE  PEOPLE. 


i  m 


f 

I 


li  « 


significant;  for  among  them  I  found  many  individuals  be- 
longing to  the  most  widely  different  tribes,  frequently 
from  regions  quite  far  distant.  The  Osakas  are  recognised 
as  the  best  smiths,  and  all  the  surrounding  tribes, — the 
Oshebo-Adumas,  the  Akelles,  the  Awanshis  and  even  the 
Fans, — buy  of  them  a  great  part  of  their  implements  for 
hunting  and  war,  although  the  last-named  tribe  itself  ex- 
cels at  this  handicraft.  By  the  Oshebo-Adumas  the  iron 
wares  of  the  Osakas  are  then  brought  down  to  the  Okan- 
des  and  to  the  Apinshis  and  Okotas  dwelhng  between  the 
rapids  of  the  Ogowe,  these  last  tribes  on  their  part  being 
but  little  skilled  in  iron-work  and  devoting  themselves  ex- 
clusively to  the  slave-trade.  From  there,  through  the  me- 
dium of  the  Iningas  and  Galloas,  weapons  of  this  kind  find 
their  way  as  far  as  the  sea-coast." 

"  The  Oshebo-Adumas  generally  pay  for  these  weap- 
ons with  palm-oil  and  ground-nuts,  while  the  Fans,  who 
are  the  most  expert  huntsmen  of  all  these  various  tribes, 
give  in  exchange  for  the  spears  and  swordlike  knives  dried 
and  smoked  meat,  chiefly  of  the  antelope,  the*  wild  boar, 
the  porcupine,  the  field  rat  and  the  monkey.  In  all  the 
Osaka  villages  I  saw  a  bustling  life.  As  must  always  be 
the  case  where  such  widely  diflferent  tribes  meet  together, 
quarrelings  were  extremely  frequent  there  and  often  as- 
sumed great  proportions." 

A  typical  example  of  the  second  form  is  offered  by  the 
Kiocos  and  the  Kanjocas  in  the  southern  part  of  the 
Congo  basin.  Of  the  latter  Wissmann  reports:  ^^  "The 
Kanjoka  country  is  particularly  rich  in  iron,  and  there  are 
some  excellent  smiths  there.  Salt  also  is  produced,  so  that 
the  Kanjokas,  with  the  products  of  their  countr>'  and  their 
iron  manufacture,  undertake  commercial  expeditions  to 
the  south  as  far  as  the  Lunda  country."    The  Kiocos  dwell 

"My  Second  Journey  through  Equal.  Africa  (London,  1891),  p.  105. 


3 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMlTiyE  PEOPLE. 


75 


in  the  kingdom  of  Lund  itself,  dispersed  among  the  Ka- 
lundas,  but  have  their  own  chiefs  who  are  tributary  to  the 
Muata  Yamwo.  The  Kiocos  are  partial  to  placing  their 
villages  in  the  woodland,  for  they  are  preeminently  excel- 
lent hunters,  gather  gum  from  their  forests,  and  to  obtain 
wax  carry  on  a  species  of  wild-bee  keeping.  They  are  also 
clever  smiths,  and  not  only  make  good  hatchets,  but  can 
also  repair  old  flmtlocks  and  even  fit  them  with  new  mounts 
and  stocks.  They  clothe  themselves  in  animal  skins;  the 
art  of  making  vegetable  cloths  is  little  known  to  them. 
Their  women  plant  chiefly  manioc,  maize,  millet,  ground- 
nuts, and  beans.  The  products  that  the  Kiocos  obtain 
from  the  exploitation  of  their  forests  they  exchange  on  the 
west  coast  for  wares,  chiefly  powder,  with  which  they  then 
betake  themselves  into  the  far  interior  in  order  to  buy 
ivory  and  slaves.  The  ivory  obtained  through  trade  they 
dispose  of,  while  the  slaves  they  procure  they  incorporate 
with  their  household.  The  Kiocos  esteem  slaves  above  all 
as  property.  They  treat  the  slave  women  as  they  do  their 
wives,  and  the  men  as  members  of  the  household,  and  part 
from  them  so  very  unwillingly  that  in  the  Kioco  country 
it  is  quite  exceptional  for  travellers  to  be  offered  slaves  for 
sale.  On  their  hunting  voyages  they  have  penetrated 
farthest  towards  the  east;  and  there,  before  entering  upon 
their  journey  homewards,  they  usually  barter  a  part  of 
their  weapons  for  slaves.  Then  for  the  time  being  they 
arm  themselves  again  with  bow  and  arrow.  They  rightly 
enjoy  the  reputation  of  being  as  good  hunters  as  they  are 
crafty  and  unscrupulous  traders;  and  in  a  masterful  man- 
ner they  understand  how  to  overreach  and  dispossess  the 
better-natured  and  more  indolent  Kalundas.^® 

This  picture  is  often  repeated  in  the  negro  countries. 

"  Pogge,  pp.  45,  46,  47,  and  Wissmann,  Im  Innern  Afrikas,  pp.  59,  62. 
Comp.  also  Schurtz,  Afr.  Cew.,  p.  50. 


MICROCOPY   RiSOlUTION   TiST   CHAR) 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


A 


/APPLIED  IIVMGE     Inc 

'653  foil   Mom   S<r««' 

Rochviltr.    N»*    York         U609        USA 

(M6)   482  -  0300  -  Pfion. 

("6)   2M  -  i9«9  -  To, 


76 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


One  readily  sees  that  it  does  not  adapt  itself  to  any  of  the 
usual  categories  of  economic  history.  The  Kiocos  are  no 
hunting  people,  no  nomads,  no  agriculturalists,  no  indus- 
trial and  trading  nation;  they  are  all  these  at  once.  They 
act  as  intermediaries  for  a  part  of  the  trade  with  the  Euro- 
pean factories  on  the  coast.  At  the  same  time  they  carry 
on  some  mediary  traffic  of  their  own  in  which  they  dis- 
play the  peculiar  aptitude  of  the  negro  for  barter,  but 
nevertheless  gain  most  of  their  living  directly  from  hunt- 
ing and  agriculture. 

Both  forms  of  development  are  met  with  in  the  two  pot- 
tery islands  of  New  Guinea,  Bilibi  and  Chas.  The  manu- 
facture is  in  both  places  in  the  hands  of  the  women.  The 
natives  of  the  islands  round  about,  and  even  of  the  more 
distant  ones,  come  to  Chas  to  barter  their  products  for  the 
earthenware;  in  Bilibi  the  men  take  whole  boatloads  to  sell 
along  the  coast.  Every  woman  makes  a  special  mark  on 
the  pottery  she  produces;  but  whether  with  one  European 
observer  we  are  to  regard  this  as  a  trade-mark  seems  very 
doubtful^*" 

In  order  to  leave  untouched  no  important  part  of  the 
economic  life  of  primitive  peoples,  let  us  take  a  rapid 
glance  at  their  commercial  contrivances  and  public  adminis- 
tration. Both  are  intimately  connected.  For  commerce  is 
essentially  a  public  matter;  there  are  no  private  commer- 
cial arrangements  whatever  amoi..;  these  peoples.  Indeed 
one  can  claim  frankly  that  at  this  stage  trade  scarcely  dis- 
plays an  economic  character  at  all. 

In  the  first  place  as  concerns  commercial  routes,  there 
are  overland  trade  routes  only  when  they  have  been 
tramped  by  the  foot  of  man;  the  only  artificial  structures 
to  facilitate  land  trade  are  primitive  bridges,  often  consist- 

•*Comp   Finsch,  pp.  8i,  8.?,  281,  28-!:  Scmon,  In  the  Austral.  Bush.  pp. 
317  fF.    Similar  pottery  districts  in  Africa  proven  by  Schurtz,  p.  S4 


r 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITH^E  PEOPLE. 


77 


ing  merely  of  a  single  tree-trunk,  or  ferries  at  river  fords, 
for  the  use  of  which  the  traveller  has  to  pay  a  tax  to  the 
village  chief.  These  dues  as  a  rule  open  the  door  to  heavy 
extortions.^^  On  the  other  hand  the  natural  waterways 
are  everywhere  diligently  used,  and  there  is  hardly  a  prim- 
itive people  that  has  not  been  led  through  its  situation 
by  the  sea  or  on  a  river  to  the  use  of  some  peculiar  kind 
of  craft.  The  enumeration  and  description  of  these  means 
of  transportation  would  fill  a  volume;  from  the  dugout 
and  skin  canoe  of  the  Indians  to  the  artistically  carved 
rowboats  and  sailboats  of  the  South  Sea  Islanders,  all 
types  are  represented.  On  the  whole,  however,  the  tech- 
nique of  boat-building  and  navigation  has  remained  unde- 
veloped among  these  peoples;  none  of  their  vessels  de- 
serv'e  the  name  of  ship  in  the  proper  sense.  Thus  their 
importance  is  everywhere  restricted  to  personal  transporta- 
tion and  fishing,  while  nowhere  has  the  development 
reached  a  freight  transportation  of  any  extent. 

Curiously  among  primitive  peoples  that  branch  of  com- 
mercial communication  has  enjoyed  the  fullest  develop- 
ment which  we  would  naturally  associate  only  with  the 
highest  culture,  namelv.  the  communication  of  news.  It 
forms  indeed  the  sole  kind  of  trade  for  which  primitive 
peoples  have  created  permanent  organizations.  We  refer 
to  the  courier  service  and  the  contrivances  for  sending 
verbal  messages. 

The  despatching  of  couriers  and  embassies  to  neighbour- 
ing tribes  in  war  and  peace  leads,  even  at  a  very  low  stage 
of  culture,  to  the  development  of  a  complete  system  of 
symbolic  signs  and  means  of  conveying  intelligence.'" 
Thus  among  the  rude  tribes  in  the  interior  of  Australia 

"Comp.  Pogge.  pp.  64.  70,  78,  95,  97,  IIS,  169;  Wissmann.  Untcr 
dfutsck.  Flaggc.  pp.  .^43,  361.  364,  394;  and  Second  Journey,  p.  71. 

"Comp.  generally  R.  Andree,  "  Merkzeichen  u.  Knotenschrift "  in 
his  Ethnogr  Parallel,  pp.  184  ff.:  Waitz.  IV.  p.  80. 


78 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


Ill 


various  kinds  of  body-painting,  of  head-dress  and  other 
conventional  signs  serve  to  apprise  a  neighbouring  tribe  of 
the  occurrence  of  a  death,  of  the  holding  of  a  feast,  and  of 
a  threatening  danger,  or  to  summon  the  tribesmen  tci- 
gether  for  any  purpose.^*  Among  the  aborigines  of  South 
America  ingeniously  knotted  cords  or  leather  strips 
(quippits),  and  among  the  North  Americans  the  well- 
known  wampum  perform  s'milar  offices;*"  in  Africa  cou- 
rier-staflFs  with  or  without  engraved  signs  are  customary, 
and  the  same  are  found  among  the  Malays  and  Poly- 
nesians. If  need  be,  the  couriers  have  to  learn  their  mes- 
sage by  heart  and  communicate  it  verbally.**  In  the  negro 
kingdoms,  where  the  administrative  power  of  the  ruler 
reaches  only  as  far  as  he  is  able  personally  to  intervene,*'' 
the  couriers  of  the  chiefs  hold  a  very  important  position; 
for  through  them  the  sovereign  chief  is  as  if  omnipresent, 
and  new  occurrences  come  to  his  knowledge  with  surpris- 
ing rapidity.  But  even  for  the  communication  of  intelli- 
gence among  members  of  the  same  tribe — for  instance,  in 
hunting  and  in  war — a  system  of  symbols  exists  which  is 
often  very  ingeniously  conceived,  and  which,  as  a  rule,  is 
hidden  from  the  uninitiated. 

Not  less  remarkable  are  the  telephonic  contrivances  rest- 
ing upon  the  ingenious  employment  of  the  drum,  the 

"Details  in  Journ.  of  Anthropol.  In^t..  XX,  pp.  "i  ff. 

"  Martius,  pp.  98,  99,  694;  Waitz,  III,  pp.  138  ff.  On  knot  writing  in 
West  Africa:   Bastian,  Die  Exp.  «.  d.  Loango-Kustc,  I,  p.  181. 

*'  Livingstone,  p.  285.  Comp.  also  the  apt  description  by  Casalis, 
Let  Bassoulos,  pp.  2.^,  .235:  "  Ces  niessagcrs  sont  gen  ralement  doues 
dune  memoire  prodigieuse,  ct  Ton  peut  s'attendre  a  ce  qu'ils  trans- 
mcttcnt  tcxtucllcmcnt  les  depeches  orales,  dont  ils  se  chargent." 

"This  applies  also  to  the  political  conditions  of  semi-civilization. 
G.  Rohlfs,  Land  u.  Volk  in  Afrika,  p.  163:  "The  Abyssinian  is  accui- 
tomed  to  obey  only  when  his  master  is  near.  Once  out  of  reach  of  his 
voice  little  does  he  trouble  himself  about  orders.  This  is  the  case  in 
all  half-civilized  countries.  To  this  Turkey,  Morocco,  Egypt,  and 
Bornoo  bear  witness." 


THE  ECONOMIC  UFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


79 


musical  instrument  in  widest  use  among  primitive  peoples. 
In  one  sense  they  take  the  form  of  a  developed  signal- 
system,  as  among  the  East  Indians**  and  the  Melane- 
sians,*^  in  another  there  is  a  real  speaking  of  words  by 
which  detailed  conversations  can  be  carried  on  at  great 
distances.  The  latter  is  very  common  in  Africa.**  As  a 
rule  only  the  chiefs  and  their  relations  are  acquainted  with 
this  drum  language;  and  the  possession  of  the  instrument 
used  for  this  purpose  is  a  mark  of  rank,  like  the  crown  and 
sceptre  in  civilized  countries.  Less  extended  is  the  em- 
ployment of  fire-signs  for  summoning  the  tribe  or  com- 
municating news.*° 

There  is  no  public  economy,  in  our  sense  of  the  word. 
True,  where  their  power  is  to  some  extent  established,  ♦he 
chiefs  receive  all  kinds  of  dues  in  the  form  of  shares,  tra- 
ditionally fixed,  in  the  products  of  the  chase  and  of  hus- 
bandry, fees  for  the  use  of  bridges,  ferries,  market-place.  In 
more  extensive  kingdoms  the  subordinate  chieftains  are 
bound  to  send  tribute.*®  But  all  this  is  more  or  less  mani- 
festly clothed  in  the  form  of  gift,  for  which  the  chief  has  to 
bestow  a  return  present  even  if  this  consist  only  in  the 
entertainment  that  he  bestows  upon  the  bearer.  Even 
with  the  market-fees,  which  are  payable  by  the  sellers  to 
the  owner  of  the  market-place,  in  the  Congo  district  a 

"Martius,  p.  65.  For  a  remarkable  telephonic  contrivance  of  the 
Catuquinaru  Indians,  see  .^rchiv  f.  Post  u.  Telegraphie  (1899),  pp. 
87.  88. 

"Parkinson,  p.  127,  comp.  pp.  ~2.  121;  Finsch,  p.  68.  Likewise  in 
Africa:   Schweinfurth,  I,  pp.  64,  ago,  291. 

"  Described  in  ^r^'ater  detail  by  M.  Buchner,  Kaincrun.  pp.  37,  38; 
Wissmann,  Im  Inncrn  Afrikas,  pp.  4,  228,  232;  Betz  in  Mitthcil.  aus  d. 
dcutsch  Schutcgcbkti-it.  XI  (1898),  pp.  1-86;  Wissmann.  I'ntcr  dculsch. 
rioRge,  P-  215;  Stanley,  Through  the  Dark  Continent.  II,  pp.  264,  279; 
Livingstone,  p.  93.  For  a  .signal-whistlinj?  languaRC  in  Timor,  sec 
Jacobsen,  Reise  in  d.  Inschcelt  d.  Buitda-Meers.  p.  262. 

"Comp.,  for  example.  Petermanns  Mittheil..  XXI  (1875).  p.  381. 

"Details  in  Post,  Afr.  Jurisprudens,  I,  pp.  261  flE. 


II 


80 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITiyE  PEOPLE. 


return  service  is  rendered  in  that  the  chief  performs  a 
dance  in  front,  and  to  the  deHght,  of  those  using  the  mar- 
ket. Of  special  interest  to  us  are  the  presents  that  trav- 
ellers en  route  have  to  pay  to  the  village  chiefs  whose 
territories  they  traverse,  since  from  such  payments  our 
customs  duty  has  sprung.  Not  less  important  is  it  to  notice 
that  in  the  larger  kingdoms  the  tribute  of  the  subject 
tribes  consists  of  those  products  which  are  peculiar  to 
each  tribe,  and  which  are  usually  marketed  by  it.  In  the 
Lunda  country,  for  instance,  some  districts  bring  ivory  or 
skins,  others  salt  or  copper;  from  the  northern  parts  come 
plaited  goods  of  straw,  and  from  the  subordinate  chiefs 
nearer  the  coast  at  times  even  powder  and  European  cot- 
ton stuffs.*^  Not  infrequently  has  this  led  such  sovereign 
chiefs  to  carry  on  a  trade  in  these  products,  which  accumu- 
late in  large  quantities  in  their  hands,  or  to  claim  a  monop- 
oly in  them.  The  saying  that  makes  the  kings  the  greatest 
merchants  thus  gains  a  deeper  significance. 

In  general  the  financial  prerogatives  of  the  chiefs  are 
limited  only  by  their  natural  strength;  and  the  wealth  of 
the  subject  is  without  the  protection  that  the  civilized 
State  assures  to  it  by  law.  The  expeditions  sent  out  by 
the  negro  kings  to  collect  the  tribute  and  taxes  degen- 
erate only  too  often  into  robber  raids.  The  claim  of  the 
kings  to  fines  frequently  reduces  the  administration  of 
justice  to  an  institution  for  extortion,  and  the  system  of 
gifts,  which  prevails  in  all  relationships  of  a  public  char- 
acter, too  rapidly  passes  into  a  veritable  system  of  bribery. 

This  must  naturally  react  injuriously  upon  private  in- 
dustry. In  the  condition  of  constant  feud  in  which  the 
smaller  tribes  live  with  their  neighbours  under  the  arbi- 

"  Pogge,  pp.  226,  227.  Comp.  Wissmann,  Im  Inncrn  Afrikas,  pp. 
171,  172,  202, 249,  267, 286,  289,  .^08;  Vnter  deutsch.  Flagge,  pp.  95.  332,  339. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  Marutse  country  north  of  the  Zambesi:  E. 
Holub.  Sieben  Jakrc  in  Siidafrika.  II.  u-p.  173.  187.  253.  254,  257.  268.  271. 


II     > 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


8i 


trary  rule  which  in  the  interior  usually  accompanies  the 
formation  of  larger  states,  most  primitive  peoples  stand  in 
peril  of  life  and  property.  Through  long  habit  this  danger 
becomes  endurable,  yet  economic  advancement  must  as- 
suredly be  retarded  by  it.  The  obligation  to  make  pres- 
ents ever  and  everywhere,  the  custom  of  regarding  food 
almost  as  free  goods,  leave  but  insufficient  room  for  self- 
interest.  An  English  writer  makes  the  remark — from  the 
standpoint  of  European  life  certainly  not  inaccurate — that 
this  sharing-up,  rendered  necessary  by  custom,  encourages 
the  people  in  gluttony,  since  only  that  is  safe  which  they 
have  succeeded  in  stuffing  into  their  bellies;  it  also  pre- 
vents rational  provision  for  the  future,  because  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  keep  on  hand  supplies  of  any  kind.^^  Assuredly 
with  some  reason  have  the  begging  proclivities  and  the 
"  tendency  to  steal,"  which  is  said  to  animate  many  prim- 
itive peoples  in  dealing  with  Europeans,  been  associated 
with  the  custom  of  gifts  and  the  insufficient  distinction  of 
"  mine  and  thine."  *®  The  immoderate  use  of  alcoholic 
drinks  is  likewise  a  consequence  of  their  slight  forethought 
for  their  own  welfare.  If,  however,  the  attempt  is  made  to 
appreciate  all  these  things  apart  from  the  conditions  of  cul- 
ture in  which  they  arise,  one  readily  recognises  that  they 
lie  "  beyond  the  bounds  of  good  and  evil,"  and  that  what 
appears  from  the  standpoint  of  the  modern  Englishman 
as  vice  has  concealed  within  it  the  beautiful  virtues  of  dis- 
interestedness, benevolence,  and  generosity. 

For  many  who  to-day  pose  as  the  bearers  of  civilization 
to  their  black  and  brown  fellow  men  primitive  man  is  the 
quintessence  of  all  economic  vices:  lazy,  disorderly,  care- 
less, prodigal,  untrustworthy,  avaricious,  thievish,  heart- 

"Tindall,  in  Fritsch,  p.  351;  comp.  p.  362.     Waitz,  II,  p.  402;  III, 
p.  80. 
"Comp.  Waitz,  III,  pp.  163  flf. 


8a 


THE  ECONOMIC  LIFE  OF  PRIMITIVE  PEOPLE. 


>1 


J' 
'f 


I  .'"'4 
1 

■  ;']• 

ii 

I   — : 


less,  and  self-indulgent.  It  is  true  that  primitive  man  lives 
only  for  the  present,  that  he  shuns  all  regular  work,  that 
he  has  not  the  conception  of  duty,  nor  of  a  vocation  as  a 
moral  function  in  life.  But  it  is  not  less  true  that  with  his 
wretched  implements  he  accomplishes  an  amount  of  work 
that  must  excite  our  admiration,  whether  we  contemplate 
with  our  own  eyes  the  neat  fruit-fields  of  the  women  or 
view  in  our  museums  the  weapons  and  implements  of  the 
men,  the  products  of  infinite  toil.  Above  all,  his  manner 
of  working  assures  to  primitive  man  a  measure  of  enjoy- 
ment in  life  and  a  perpetual  cheerfulness  which  the  Euro- 
pean, worried  with  work  and  oppressed  with  care,  must 
envy  him. 

If  since  their  acquaintance  with  European  civilization 
so  many  primitive  peoples  have  retrograded  and  some 
even  become  extinct,  the  cause  lies,  according  to  the 
view  of  those  best  acquainted  with  the  matter,  chiefly  in 
the  disturbing  influence  which  our  industrial  methods  and 
technique  have  exerted  upon  them.  We  carried  into  their 
childlike  existence  the  nervous  unrest  of  our  commercial 
life,  the  hurried  hunt  for  gain,  our  destructive  pleasures, 
our  religious  wrangles  and  animosities.  Our  perfected  im- 
plements relieved  them  suddenly  of  an  immense  burden  of 
labour.  What  they  had  accomplished  with  their  stone 
hatchets  in  months  they  performed  with  the  iron  one  in  a 
few  hours;  and  a  few  muskets  replaced  in  effectiveness 
hundreds  of  bows  and  arrows.  Therewith  fell  away  the 
beneficent  tension  in  which  the  old  method  of  work  had 
continuously  kept  the  body  and  mind  of  primitive  man, 
particularly  as  the  character  of  his  needs  remained  at  the 
same  low  level.  Under  these  conditions  has  he  gone  to 
ruin,  just  as  the  plant  that  thrives  in  iu-.  shade  withers 
away  when  exposed  to  the  glare  of  the  noon-day  sun. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE    RISE    OF    NATIONAL   ECONOMY. 


Everyone  knows  that  the  modern  man's  way  of  satisfy- 
ing his  numerous  wants  is  subject  to  continual  change. 
Many  arrangements  and  contrivances  that  we  find  neces- 
sary were  unknown  to  our  grandparents;  and  our  g^rand- 
children  will  find  inadequate  much  that  perhaps  only  a 
short  time  ago  aroused  our  admiration. 

All  those  arrangements,  contrivances,  and  processes 
called  forth  to  satisfy  a  people's  wants  constitute  national 
economy.  National  economy  falls  again  into  numerous 
individual  economies  united  together  by  trade  and  depend- 
ent upon  one  another  in  many  ways;  for  each  undertakes 
certain  duties  for  all  the  others,  and  leaves  certain  duties 
to  each  of  them. 

As  the  outcome  of  auch  a  development,  national  econ- 
omy is  a  product  of  all  past  civilization;  it  is  just  as  subject 
to  change  as  every  separate  economy,  whether  private  or 
public,  and  whether  directly  ministering  to  the  wants  of  a 
larger  or  a  smaller  number  of  people.  Furthermore,  every 
phenomenon  of  national  economy  is  aj)henomenon  in  the 
gygJ^Jj^lP"  of. civilization.  In  scientifically  defining  it  and 
in  explaining  the  laws  of  its  development  we  must  always 
bear  in  mind  that  its  essential  features  and  its  dynamic 
laws  are  not  absolute  in  character;  or,  in  other  words,  that 
they  do  not  hold  good  for  all  periods  and  states  of  civ- 
ilization. 

8s 


I* 


m 


84 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


The  first  task,  then,  which  national  economy  presents 
to  science  is  to  determine  and  explain  the  facts.  But  it 
must  not  be  content  with  a  merely  dynamic  treatment  of 
economic  processes;  it  must  also  seek  to  deduce  their 
origin.  A  full  understanding  of  any  given  group  of  facts 
in  the  history  of  a  civilized  people  requires  that  we  know 
how  the  facts  arose.  We  shall,  therefore,  not  escape  the 
task  of  investigating  the  phases  of  development  through 
which  the  economic  activity  of  civilized  peoples  passed  be- 
fore it  assumed  the  form  of  the  national  economy  of  to- 
day, and  the  modifications  undergone  by  each  separate 
economic  phenomenon  during  the  process.  The  material 
for  this  second  part  of  the  task  can  be  drawn  only  from  the 
economic  history  of  the  civilized  peoples  of  Europe;  for 
these  alone  present  a  line  of  development  which  historical 
investigation  has  adequately  disclosed,  and  which  has  not 
been  deflected  in  its  course  by  violent  disturbances  from 
without ;  though,  to  be  sure,  this  upward  development  has 
not  always  been  without  interruption  or  recoil. 

The  first  question  for  the  political  economist  who  seeks 
to  understand  the  economic  life  of  a  people  at  a  time  long 
since  past  is  this:  Is  this  economy  national  economy;  and 
are  its  phenomena  substantially  similar  to  those  of  our 
modern  commercial  world,  or  are  the  two  essentially  dif- 
ferent? An  answer  to  this  question  can  be  had  only  if  we 
do  not  disdain  investigating  the  economic  phenomena  of 
the  past  by  the  same  methods  of  analysis  and  deduction 
from  intellectually  isolated  cases  which  have  given  such 
splendid  results  to  the  masters  of  the  old  "  abstract "  po- 
litical economy  when  applied  to  the  economic  life  of  tne 
present. 

The  Modern  "  historical  "  school  can  hardly  escape  the 
reproach  that,  instead  of  penetrating  into  the  life  of  earlier 
economic  periods  by  investigations  of  this  character,  they 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


85 


have  almost  unwittingly  applied  to  past  times  the  current 
classifications  of  modern  national  economy;  or  that  they 
have  kneaded  away  so  long  at  conceptions  of  commercial 
life  that  these  perforce  appear  applicable  to  all  economic 
periods.  In  so  doing  they  have  without  doubt  greatly  ob- 
structed the  path  to  a  scientific  mastery  of  those  historical 
phenomena.  The  material  for  economic  history,  which 
has  been  brought  to  light  in  such  gteat  quantities,  has  for 
this  reason  largely  remamed  an  unprofitable  treasure  still 
awaiting  scientific  utilization. 

Nowhere  is  this  more  plainly  evident  than  in  the  manner 
in  which  they  characterize  the  differences  between  the 
present  economic  methods  of  civilized  nations  and  the  eco- 
nomic life  of  past  epochs,  or  of  peoples  low  in  the  scale  of 
civilization.  This  they  do  by  setting  up  so-called  stages^ 
of  development,  with  generic  designations  made  to  embrace 
the  whole  course  of  economic  evolution. 

The  institution  of  such  "  economic  stages  "  is  from  the 
point  of  method  indispensable.     It  is  indeed  only  in  this 
way    that    economic    theory    can    turn    to    account    the 
results  of  the  investigations  of  economic  history.     But 
these  stages  of  development  are  not  to  be  confoimded 
with  the   time-periods  of  the   historian.     The       stfrin- 
must    not    forget    to    relate    in    any    period    everytlv 
that   occurred   in   it.   while    for   his    stages    the   theon  i 
need  notice  only   the  normal,   simply   ignoring  the 
cidental.     In  treating  of  the  gradual  transformation,  f 
quently  extending  over  centuries,  which  all  economic  } 
nomena  and  institutions  undergo,  his  only  object  can 
to  comprehend  the  whole  development  in  its  chief  pliase^. 
while  the  so-called  transition-periods,  in  which  all  phenom- 
ena are  in  a  state  of  flux,  must,  for  the  time,  be  dis- 
regarded.   By  this  means  alone  is  it  possible  to  discover 


I* 


86 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


the  fundamental  features,  or,  let  us  say  it  boldly,  the  laws 
of  development. 

All  early  attempts  of  this  class  suffer  from  the  defect  of 
not  reaching  the  essentials,  and  touching  only  the  surface. 
The  best  known  series  of  stages  is  that  originated  by 
Frederick  List,  based  upon  the  chief  direction  taken  by 
production.  It  distinguishes  five  successive  periods  which 
the  peoples  of  the  temperate  zone  are  supposed  to  have 
passed  through  before  they  attained  their  present  economic 
condition,  namely:  (i)  the  period  of  nomadic  life;  (2)  the 
period  of  pastoral  life;  (3)  the  period  of  agriculture;  (4) 
the  period  of  combined  agriculture  and  manufacture;  and 
(S)  the  period  of  agriculture,  manufacture,  and  commerce. 
Another  series  evolved  by  Bntno  Hi'Jcbrand,  which 
makes  the  condition  of  exchange  the  distinguishing  char- 
acteristic, comes  somewhat  closer  to  the  root  of  the  mat- 
ter. It  assumes  three  stages  of  development:  period  of 
barter;  period  of  monev;  and  period  of  credit. 

Both,  however,  take  lor  granted  that  as  far  back  as  his- 
tory reaches,  with  the  sole  exception  of  the  '"  primitive 
state,"  there  has  existed  a  national  economy  based  upon 
exchange  of  goods,  though  at  different  periods  the  forms 
of  production  and  exchange  have  varied.  They  have  no 
doubt  whatever  that  the  fundamental  features  of  economic 
life  have  always  been  essentially  similar.  Theit  sole  aim 
is  to  show  that  the  various  public  regulations  of  trade  in 
former  times  found  their  justitication  in  the  changing  char- 
acter of  production  or  exchange,  and  thai  likewise  in  the 
present  different  conditions  demand  different  regulations. 
The  most  recent  coherent  presentations  of  economic 
theory  that  have  proceeded  from  the  members  of  the  his- 
torical school  remain  content  with  this  conception,  al- 
though in  reality  it  stands  upon  a  scarcely  higher  plane 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


^1 


than  the  favourite  historical  creations  of  abstract  English 
economics.'    This  we  will  endeavour  briefly  to  prove. 

The  condition  of  society  uf>on  which  Adam  Smith  and 
Ricardo  founded  the  earlier  theory  is  that  of  a  commercial 
Organization  Jbased  upon  division  of  labour;  or  let  us 
TatTier  say  simply,  of  national  economy  in  the  real  sense  of 
the  term.  It  is  that  condition  in  which  each  individual 
does  not  produce  the  goods  that  he  needs,  but  those  which 
in  his  opinion  others  need,  in  order  to  obtain  by  way  of 
trade  the  manifold  things  that  he  himself  requires;  or,  in 
a  word,  the  condition  in  which  the  cooperation  of  many 
or  of  all  is  necessary  in  order  to  provide  for  the  individual. 
English  political  economy  is  thus  in  its  essence  a  theory  of 
exchange.  The  phenomena  and  laws  of  the  division  of 
labour,  of  capital,  of  price,  of  wages,  of  rent,  and  of  profits 
on  capital,  form  its  chief  field  of  investigation.  The  whole 
theory  of  production  and  especially  of  consumption  re- 
ceives verj-  inadequate  treatment.  All  attention  is  centred 
upon  the  circulation  of  goods,  in  which  term  their  distri- 
bution is  included. 

That  there  may  one*  have  existed  a  condition  of  society 
in  which  exchange  was  unknown  does  not  occur  to  them; 
where  their  system  makes  such  a  view  necessary  they  have 
recourse  to  the  Robinson  Crusoe  fiction  so  much  ridiculed 
by  later  WTiters.  Usually,  however,  they  deduce  the  most 
involved  processes  of  exchange  directly  from  the  primitive 
state.^     Adam  Smith  supposes  that  man  is  born  with  a 

'  [Regarding  the  omission  from  special  mention  of  Schmoller's  ter- 
ritorial series:  village,  town,  territory,  and  State,  we  may  refer  to 
Professor  Schmoller's  review  of  the  first  German  edition  and  Profes- 
sor Bticher's  reply  in  Jhb.  f.  Gesetzpeb..  etc..  XVII  and  XVIII  (1893- 
94).  See  also  Schmoller,  Grundris:  d.  I'Ms'iVirtscluiftslehrc,  I  (Leipzig, 
igoo"). — Ed.] 

'The  same  is  true  also  of  the  Physiocrats.  Comp.  Turgot.  Reflexions, 
J§2ff. 


88 


THE  RISE  OF  NATlON/tL  ECONOMY. 


in 


natural  instinct  for  trade,  and  considers  the  division  of 
labour  itself  as  but  a  result  of  it.^  Ricardo  in  several  places 
treats  the  hunter  and  the  fisher  of  primitive  times  as  if  they 
were  two  capitalistic  entrepreneurs.  He  represents  them 
as  paying  wages  and  making  profits;  he  discusses  the  rise 
and  fall  of  the  cost,  and  the  price,  of  their  products.  Tliii- 
nen,  to  mention  also  a  prominent  German  of  this  school,  in 
constructing  his  isolated  State  starts  with  the  assumption 
of  a  commercial  organization.  Even  the  most  distant 
region,  which  has  not  yet  reached  the  agricultural  stage, 
prosecutes  its  labours  with  the  single  end  of  selling  its 
products  in  the  metropolir,     city. 

How  widely  such  theoretical  constructions  vary  from 
the  actual  economic  conditions  of  primitive  peoples  must 
long  ago  have  been  patent  in  historical  and  ethnographical 
investigators  had  not  the\  themselves  been  in  the  grasp 
of  modern  commercial  ideas  which  they  transferred  to  the 
past.  A  thorough-going  study,  which  will  sufficiently  em- 
brace the  conditions  of  life  in  the  past,  and  not  measure  its 
phenomena  by  the  standards  of  the  present,  must  lead  to 
this  conclusion:  National  economy  is  the  product  of  a  dei'cl- 
opmcnt  extending  over  thousands  of  years,  and  is  not  older 
thai!  the  modern  State;  for  long  epochs  before  it  emerged  man 
lived  and  laboured  icithout  any  system  of  trade  or  under  forms 
of  exchange  of  products  and  services  that  cannot  be  designated 
national  economy. 

If  we  are  to  gain  a  survey  of  this  whole  development,  it 
can  only  be  from  a  standpoint  that  afYords  a  direct  view 
of  the  essential  phenomena  of  national  e-onomy,  and  at 
the  same  time  discloses  the  organizing  c'ement  of  the 
earlier  economic  i)erifx!s.  This  standpoint  is  none  other 
than  the  relation  which  exists  between  the  production  and 

•Book  I.  Chap.  3. 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


89 


the  consumption  of  goods;  or,  to  be  more  exact,  the  length 
of  the  route  which  the  goods  traverse  in  passing  from  pro- 
ducer to  consumer.  From  this  point  of  view  we  are  able 
to  divide  the  whole  course  of  economic  development,  at 
least  for  the  peoples  of  central  and  western  Europe,  where 
it  may  be  historically  traced  with  sufficient  accuracy,  into 
three  stages: 

(i;  The  stage  of  independent  domestic  economy  (produc- 
tion solely  for  one's  own  needs,  absence  of  exchange),  at 
which  the  goods  are  consumed  where  they  are  produced. 

(2)  The  stage  of  totvn  economy  (custom  production,  the 
stage  of  direct  exchange),  at  which  the  goods  pass  directly 
from  the  producer  to  the  consumer. 

(3)  The  stage  of  national  economy  (wholesale  production, 
the  stage  of  the  circulation  of  goods),  at  which  the  goods 
must  ordinarily  pass  through  many  hands  before  they 
reach  the  consumer. 

We  will  endeavour  to  define  these  three  economic  stages 
more  precisely  by  seeking  a  true  conception  of  the  typical 
features  of  each  without  allowing  ourselves  to  be  misled 
by  the  casual  appearance  of  transitional  forms  or  particu- 
lar phenomena  which,  as  relics  of  earlier  or  precursors  of 
later  conditions,  project  into  any  period,  and  whose  exist- 
ence may  perhaps  be  historically  proved.  In  this  way 
alone  shall  wc  be  able  to  understaiul  clearly  the  funda- 
mental distinctions  between  the  throe  periods  and  the  phe- 
nomena peculiar  to  each. 

The  stage  of  independent  domestic  economy,  as  has  already 
been  pointed  out,  is  characterized  by  restriction  of  the 
whole  course  of  economic  activity  from  production  to  con- 
sumption to  the  exclusive  circle  of  the  household  (the 
family,  the  clan).  The  character  and  extent  of  the  produc- 
tion of  every  household  arc  prescribed  by  the  wants  of  its 
members  as  consumers.     Every  product  passes  through 


9° 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


the  whole  process  of  its  manufacture,  from  the  procur- 
ing of  the  raw  material  to  its  final  elaboration  in  the  same 
domestic  establishment,  and  reaches  the  consumer  with- 
out any  intermediary.  Production  and  consumption  are 
here  inseparably  interdependent:  they  form  a  single 
uninterrupted  and  indistinguishable  process;  and  it  is  as 
impossible  to  differentiate  them  as  to  separate  acquisitive 
and  domestic  activity  from  each  other.  The  earnings  of 
each  communal  group  are  one  with  the  product  of  their 
labour,  and  this,  again,  one  with  the  goods  going  to  sat- 
isfy their  wants,  that  is,  with  their  consumption. 

Exchange  was  originally  entirely  unknown.  Primitive 
man,  far  from  possessing  a  natural  instinct  for  trading, 
shows  on  the  contrar)-  an  aversion  to  it.  Exchange 
(tauschcn)  and  deceive  (taiisclien)  are  in  the  older  tongue 
one  and  the  same  word.*  Thero  is  no  universally  recog- 
nised measure  of  value.  Hence  everyone  must  fear  being 
duped  in  the  bartering.  Moreover,  the  product  of  labour 
is.  as  it  were,  a  part  of  the  person  producing  it.  The  man 
who  transfers  it  to  another  alienates  a  part  of  his  being 
and  subjects  himself  to  the  evil  powers.  Far  down  into 
the  Middle  Ages  exchange  is  protected  by  publicity,  com- 
pletion before  witnesses,  and  the  use  of  symbolic  forms. 

An  autonomous  economy  of  this  kind  is  in  the  first  place 
dependent  upon  the  land  under  it^  control.  Whether  the 
chief  as  hunter  or  fisher  appropriates  the  gifts  voluntarilv 
offered  by  nature,  whether  he  wanders  as  a  nomad  with  his 
herds,  whether  he  cultivates  the  soil  as  well,  or  even  sup- 
ports himself  by  agriculture  alone,  his  daily  labour  and 
care  will  be  shaped  in  every  case  by  the  bit  of  land  that  he 
has  brought  under  cultivation.     The  greater  his  advance 

*  tCotnp   also  the  e.irly  signification  of  our  words  barter,  truck,  etc. 
New  Oxford  Diet.— Ed.] 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


91 


in  intelligence  and  technical  skill,  and  the  more  method- 
ical and  varied  the  satisfaction  of  his  wants,  so  much  the 
greater  does  this  dependence  become,  until  finally  the  soil 
brings  into  subjection  the  man  who  is  bom  to  rule  over  it. 
This  has  been  designated  villenagc*  We  may  here  confine 
ourselves  to  proving  that  a'  this  stage  the  man  who  has 
direct  possession  of  the  soil  can  alone  maintain  economic 
independence.  He  who  is  not  in  this  position  can  eke  out 
his  existence  only  by  becoming  the  servant  of  the  land- 
owner, and,  as  such,  bound  to  the  soil. 

In  the  independent  domestic  economy  the  members  of 
the  household  have  not  merely  to  gather  from  the  soil  its 
products,  but  they  must  also  by  iheir  labour  produce  all  the 
necessary  tools  and  implements,  and,  finally,  work  up  and 
transform  the  new  products  and  make  them  fit  for  use.  All 
this  leads  to  a  diversity  of  employments,  and,  because  of 
the  primitive  nature  of  the  tools,  demands  a  varied  dex- 
terity and  intelligence  of  which  modern  civilized  man  can 
scarcely  form  a  proper  conception.'  The  extent  of  the  tasks 

*  Verdinglichung. 

'We  must  turn  to  descriptions  of  early  peasant  life  in  remote  parts 
of  Europe  in  order  to  gain  a  conception  of  such  conditions.  Comp. 
one  example  in  H.  F.  Tiebe,  Lief-  u.  Esthlands  Ehrenrettung  (Halle, 
1804),  p.  icx>.  Similar  instances  are  met  with  still  among  the  Coreans. 
Thus  we  read  in  M.  A.  Pogio,  Korea  (Vienna  and  Leipzig,  1895),  p. 
222:  "Throughout  Corea  the  real  necessaries  of  life  have  been  pro- 
duced within  the  household  from  time  immemorial.  Tlie  wife  and 
daughters  spin  not  only  hemp  but  silk.  For  the  latter  a  silk-bee  is 
usual  in  many  houses.  The  head  of  the  family  must  be  ready  for  all 
tasks,  and  on  occasion  play  the  painter,  stone-mason,  or  joiner.  The 
production  of  spirits,  vegetable  fats,  and  colours,  and  the  manufacture 
ot  straw  mats,  hats,  baskets,  wooden  shoes,  and  field  iniplcmonts  be- 
longs to  domestic  work.  In  a  word,  every  one  labours  for  himself  and 
his  own  reiiuircments.  Tli<inks  to  these  conditions  the  Corean  is  .1 
Jack  of  all  trades  who  rndcrtakcs  work  only  for  the  things  that  are  In- 
dispens.-ible.  and  accordingly  never  becomes  skilled  in  any  special  de- 
partment. 


93 


THE  RISE  OF  N/1TIONj4L  ECONOMY. 


falling  to  the  various  members  of  this  autonomous  house- 
hold community  can  be  lessened  only  by  division  of  labour 
and  cooperation  among  themselves  according  to  age  and 
sex,  or  accori  t.  •  to  the  strength  and  natural  aptitudes  of 
the  individual,  it  is  to  this  circumstance  that  we  must 
ascribe  that  sharp  division  of  domestic  production  accord- 
ing to  sex,  which  we  find  universal  among  primitive  peo- 
ples. On  the  other  hand,  owing  to  the  unproductiveness 
of  early  methods  of  work  the  simultaneous  cooperation  of 
many  individuals  was  in  numerous  instances  necessary  to 
the  accomplishment  of  certain  economic  ends.  Labour  in 
common  still  plays,  therefore,  at  this  stage,  a  more  im- 
portant role  than  division  of  labour. 

To  neither,  however,  would  the  family  have  been  able 
to  give  much  scope  had  it  been  organized  like  our  modern 
family,  that  is.  limited  to  father  and  mother  with  children 
and  possibly  servant?.  It  wouKl  also  have  had  very  little 
stability  or  capacity  tor  development  if  each  individual  in 
the  family  had  been  free  to  lead  the  independent  existence 
of  the  present  day. 

Signifioaiu  is  it  then  that  when  the  present  civilized  na- 
tions of  Europe  appear  on  the  horizon  of  history,  the 
tribal  constitution  prevails  among  them.*  The  tribes 
(families,  genres,  clans,  hous'.^  communities)  arc  moder- 
ately large  groups  consisiins;:  of  several  generations  of 
blood-relations,  which,  at  t'lrst  organized  according  to  ma- 
ternal and  later  according  to  paternal  succession,  have 
common  ownership  of  the  soil,  maintain  a  oommdu  house- 
hold, and  constitute  a  union  for  nnuual  protection.  Evtrv 
tribe  is  thus  compnse<l  of  several  smaller  groups  of  rela- 


Conip,  on  tin-  p.vint   Fu-tel  dc  CouI.Tniio?.  /  i 


i  l\\rx<. 


L.-v< 


/.I  Prcfrii-ti-  (4tli  edition.   rar:>.   i8<)0: 


lS<'>4l:   Hniilc  ^h 

K.  Grox-e.  PiV  ■■   r„-,-K  ,i    /,;ii;:7;i-  u.  d.  [\'rmt-n  d    H'lrths.h^ift  (  Leip.'is. 

iS'JO).  e^T.cia'.v  C\\?.n    V!!I. 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


93 


tives,  each  of  which  is  formed  of  a  man  and  wife  with  their 
children.  Anyone  living  outside  this  tribe  is  an  out- 
law; he  has  no  legal  or  economic  existence,  no  help  in  time 
of  need,  no  avenger  if  he  is  slain,  no  funeral  escort  when 
he  passes  to  his  last  rest.^ 

All  the  peoples  in  question,  when  they  took  up  fixed 
abodes,  were  acquainted  with  the  use  of  the  plough.  Their 
settlement  came  about  usually  by  the  establishment  of 
large  common  dwelling-houses,  farms,  and  villages  by  the 
n-.embers  of  a  tribe.  Once  in  secure  possession  of  the  land 
the  sense  of  community  soon  weakened.  Smaller  patri- 
archal households  with  a  limited  number  of  members,  such 
as  are  represented  at  the  present  day  by  the  zadrngas  of 
the  south  Slavs,  and  by  the  great  family  of  the  Russians, 
Caucasians,  and  Hindoos,  separated  from  the  larger  unit. 
But  for  centuries  the  village  house-communities  continued 
to  own  the  soil  in  common,  and  jointly  tilled  it  probably 
for  some  time  longer,  while  each  household  enjoyed  the 
products  apart. 

In  large  family  groups  of  this  kind,  community  and  divi- 
sion of  bbour  may  be  carried  out  to  a  considerable  extent. 
Men  and  women,  mothers  and  children,  fathers  and  grand- 
fathers— to  each  group  is  allotted  its  particular  part  in  pro- 
duction and  domestic  work,  and  wherever  special  individ- 
ual skill  displays  itself,  it  finds  scope  and  also  a  limit,  in 

•C(imp.  M.  Buclinor.  Kamerun.  p.  i88:  "It  i?  a  fund.imental  point 
in  the  lejjal  ontici'ptions  of  the  noiirdes.  that  not  tlic  man  him>ch'  but 
the  community,  '.ho  f.imily.  the  whole  body  of  relative*  is  tlie  int'  id- 
tnl  before  the  law.  Within  the  community  riKht?  and  duties  are 
tran-fer:;Me  to  an  a!mo~t  '.m'iniiied  extent.  .\  debtor,  a  criminal,  can 
be  pimi-hed  in  tlie  member-  of  liis  community,  and  the  liabihty  of 
the  corTuinitv  f  -■"  'be  crime  of  one  born  a  member  of  it  does  not 
lapse  even  with  emigration  or  -epar.itim  from  it.  Even  the  death- 
penalty  can  W  executed  upon  •  .ne  other  than  the  guilty."  The  same 
thing  is  found  am.^ng  t!ie  South  Sea  Islanders.  Sec  Fat.i'nson.  Im 
Bisniarik-.-itihipii.  p^i.  50-i. 


f  1 


94 


THE  RISE  OF  NATlONy4L  ECONOMY. 


working  for  its  own  tribe.  The  feelings  of  brotherhood, 
of  filial  obedience,  of  respect  for  zgt,  of  loyalty  and  defer- 
ence reach  their  most  beautiful  development  in  such  a 
community.  Just  as  the  tribe  pays  a  debt  or  weregild  for 
the  individual  or  avenges  a  wrong  done  him,  so  on  the 
other  hand  does  the  individual  devote  his  whole  life  to  the 
tribe  and  on  its  behalf  subdue  every  impulse  to  independ- 
ent action. 

And  even  when  the  strength  of  these  feelings  declines, 
the  modern  separate  family  with  its  independent  organiza- 
tion does  not  immediately  spring  into  existence.  For  its 
appearance  would  inevitably  have  resulted  in  a  diminished 
capacity  for  work,  an  abandonment  of  the  autonomous  life 
of  the  household,  and  perhaps  a  relapse  into  barbarism. 
Two  ways  there  were  of  avoiding  this. 

One  was  as  follows:  for  such  tasks  as  surpassed  the  pow- 
ers of  the  now  diminished  family,  the  original  large  tribal 
unions  were  continued  as  local  organizations.  These 
formed  partial  communities  on  the  basis  of  common  prop- 
erty and  common  usufruct  of  the  same;  but.  when  occa- 
sion demanded,  they  could  also  undertake  duties  which,  if 
left  to  the  care  of  each  individual  household,  would  have 
demanded  an  unpi  ..".table  expenditure  of  energy,  as,  for 
example,  guarding  the  fields  and  tending  cattle.  There 
were  also  tasks  which,  though  not  of  equal  concern  to 
each  separate  household  of  the  local  group,  were  never- 
theless too  difficult  for  the  individual.  A  house  or  a  ship 
was  to  be  built,  a  forest  clearing  made,  a  stream  diverted, 
hunting  or  fishing  engaged  in  at  a  distance;  or  perhaps 
the  season  of  the  year  made  some  unusual  work  neces- 
sar>'  for  this  or  that  house.  In  all  such  cases  hidden- 
labour  assisted;  *»  that  is,  among  neighbours  there  sprang 

•  Comp.  Arbeit  u.  Rkylhmus  (2d  ed).  pp.  198  ff.  [and  Ch.  VII.  be- 
low.— Ed.] 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


95 


Up,  on  invitation  of  the  head  of  the  family,  temporary  labour 
communities  which  disappeared  again  on  the  completion  of 
their  work.  Many  institutions  of  this  kind  underwent  subse- 
quent transformation,  others  perpetuated  themselves.  We 
would  recall  the  labour  communities  of  the  Slavic  tribes, 
the  artel  of  the  Russians,  the  tschcta  or  driisina  of  the  Bul- 
garians, the  moba  of  the  Serbs,  the  voluntary  assistance 
rendered  by  our  peasants  to  each  other  in  house-raising, 
sheep-shearing,  flax-pulling,  etc. 

Whatever  the  extent  of  such  contrivances,  the  part  they 
can  play  in  the  supplying  of  needs  is  comparatively  un- 
important, and  just  as  little  prejudices  the  economic  auton- 
omy of  the  individual  household  as  the  home  production 
subsisting  among  our  agrarian  landlords  to-day  affects  the 
supremacy  of  commerce.  These  temporary  labour  com- 
munities, moreover,  are  not  business  enterprises,  but  only 
expedients  for  satisfying  immediate  want^.  Assistance  is 
rendered  now  to  one.  now  to  another  of  the  participants; 
or  the  product  of  the  joint  labour  is  distributed  to  the  sep- 
arate families  for  their  consumption.  A  definite  case  of 
bargain  and  sale  will  be  sought  for  in  vain,  even  where,  as 
in  the  village  community  of  India,  we  have  a  number  of 
professional  labourers  performing  communal  functions 
similar  to  those  of  our  village  shepherds.  They  work  for 
all  and  are  in  return  maintained  by  all. 

The  second  method  of  avoiding  the  disadvantages  aris- 
ing from  the  dissolution  of  the  tribal  communities  con- 
sisted in  the  artificial  extension,  or  numerical  maintenance 
of  the  family  circle.  This  was  done  by  the  adoption  and 
incorporation  of  foreign  (non-consangi  inous)  elements. 
Tims  arose  slavery  and  serfdom. 

We  may  leave  undecided  the  question  whether  the  en- 
slavemciu  and  setting  to  work  of  a  captured  enemy  were 
more  the  cause  or  the  result  of  the  dissolution  of  the  early 


11  j 


96 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


tribal  community.  It  is  certain  that  a  means  was  thereby 
found  of  maintaining  intact  the  independent  household 
economy  with  its  accustomed  division  of  labour,  and  at  the 
same  time  of  making  progress  towards  an  increase  in  the 
number  and  variety  of  wants.  For  now  the  more  numer- 
ous the  slaves  or  villeins  belonging  to  the  household,  the 
more  completely  could  its  labour  be  united  or  divided.  In 
agriculture  larger  areas  could  be  cultivated.  Particular 
technical  employments,  such  as  grinding  com,  baking, 
spinning,  weaving,  making  implements,  or  tending  csttle, 
could  be  assigned  to  particular  slaves  for  their  whole  life; 
they  could  be  specially  trained  for  this  service.  The 
more  prominent  the  family,  the  more  wealthy  the  lord,  or 
the  more  extensive  his  husbandry,  all  the  more  possible 
was  it  to  develop  in  variety  and  extent  the  technical  skill 
employed  in  the  procuring  and  working  up  of  materials. 
The  economic  life  of  the  Greeks,  the  Carthaginians,  and 
the  Romans  was  of  this  character.''  Rodbcrtus,  who  noticed 

'  For  students  of  political  economy  it  need  scarcely  be  observed 
that  in  what  follows  the  object  is  not  to  furnish  a  compendium  of  the 
economic  history  of  ancient  times,  but,  as  the  context  shows,  merely 
an  outline  of  the  most  highly  developed  domestic  economy  as  it 
presents  itself  in  the  system  of  slave  labour  among  the  ancients.  In 
my  work  on  the  insurrections  of  the  unfree  labourers  between  143  and 
129  B.C.  (Die  Aufstdnde  d.  unfreien  Arbeiter,  143-129  v.  Chr„  Fr.-a.-M., 
1874).  I  have  shown  that  before  the  rise  of  slave-work  on  a  large 
scale  the  economic  life  of  antiquity  furnished  considerable  scope  for 
free  labour,  the  formation  of  separate  trades,  and  the  exchange  of 
goods.  What  progress  had  been  made  in  the  development  of  an  in- 
dependent industry,  I  have  set  forth  in  the  article  "  Industry " 
iGnverbe)  in  the  Handwi'.rterbuch  der  Staatsw.,  Ill,  pp.  926-7,  929- 
931;  and  in  my  articles  on  the  Edict  of  Diocletian  on  tax  prices 
(Ztschr.  f.  d.  gcs.  Staatsw..  1894,  pp.  200-1)  I  have  endeavoured  to  fix 
the  position  filled  by  trade  in  the  system  of  independent  domestic 
ecoromy  at  the  time  of  the  empire  in  Rome.  Reference  may  also  be 
mace,  for  an  outline  picture  of  the  times,  to  the  interesting  address 
of  M.  Weber  on  Die  sosialen  Griinde  d.  Unter gangs  d.  antiken  Cultur,  Die 
Wahrhcit,  VI,  No.  3. 


!.r. 


THE  RISE  OF  N/tTlONylL  ECONOMY. 


97 


this  a  generation  ago,  designates  it  oikos  husbandry,  be- 
cause the  oiWos,  the  house,  represents  the  unit  of  the  ero- 
nomic  system.  The  oiKoi  is  not  merely  the  dwelHng-place, 
but  also  the  body  of  people  carrying  on  their  husbandry  in 
common.  Those  belonging  to  them  are  the  oiteirat,  a 
word  which,  in  its  historic  usage,  it  is  significant  to  note, 
is  confined  to  the  household  slaves  upon  whom  the  whole 
burden  of  the  work  of  the  house  at  that  time  rested.  A 
similar  meaning  is  attached  to  the  Roman  familia,  the 
whole  body  of  famuli,  house-slaves,  servants.  The  pater- 
familias is  the  slave-master  into  whose  hands  flows  the 
whole  revenue  of  the  estate;  in  the  patria  potcstas  the  two 
conceptions  of  the  power  of  the  lord  as  husband  and  father 
and  as  slave-owner  have  been  blended.  A  member  of  the 
household  labours  not  for  himself,  but  only  for  the  pater- 
familias, who  wields  the  same  power  of  life  and  death 
over  all. 

In  the  supreme  power  of  the  Roman  paterfamilias,  ex- 
tending as  it  did  equally  over  all  members  of  the  house- 
hold, whether  blood-relatives  or  not,  the  independent  do- 
mestic economy  was  much  more  closely  integrated  and 
rendered  capable  of  much  greater  productivity  than  the 
matriarchal  or  even  the  earlier  patriarchal  tribe,  which 
consisted  solely  of  blood-relatives.  The  individual  as  a 
separate  entity  has  entirely  disappeared;  the  State  and  the 
law  recognise  only  family  communities,  groups  of  per- 
sons, and  thus  regulate  the  relations  of  family  to  family, 
not  of  individual  to  individual.  As  to  what  happens  within 
the  household  they  do  not  trouble  themselves. 

In  the  economic  autonomy  of  the  slave-owning  family 
lies  the  explanation  of  all  the  social  and  a  great  part  of  the 
political  history  of  Rome.  There  are  no  separate  classes 
of  producers,  as  such,  no  farmers,  no  artisans.  There 
are  only  large  and  small  proprietors,  rich  and  poor.    If  the 


98 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


rich  man  wrests  from  the  poor  possession  of  the  soil,  he 
makes  him  a  proletarian.  The  landless  freeman  is 
practically  incapable  of  making  a  living.  For  there  is  no 
business  capital  to  provide  wages  for  the  purchase  of 
labour;  there  is  no  industry  outside  the  exclusive  circle 
of  the  household.  The  artificers  of  the  early  records  are 
not  freemen  engaged  in  industry,  but  artisan  slaves  who 
receive  from  the  hands  of  the  agricultural  and  pastoral 
slaves  the  corn,  wool,  or  wood  which  are  to  be  transformed 
into  bread,  clothing,  or  implements.  "  Do  not  imagine 
that  he  buys  anything,"  we  read  in  Petronius  of  the  rich 
novus  homo,  "  everything  is  produced  at  his  own  house."  ■ 
Hence  that  colossal  development  of  latifundia,  and,  con- 
centrated in  the  hands  of  individual  proprietors,  those  end- 
less companies  of  slaves  amongst  whom  the  subdivision  of 
labour  was  so  multiplex  that  their  productions  and  ser- 
vices were  capable  of  satisfying  the  most  pampered  taste. 
The  Dutchman,  T.  Popma,  who  in  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury wrote  an  able  book  on  the  occupations  of  the  Roman 
slaves,  enumerates  one  hundred  and  forty-six  different 
designations  for  the  functions  of  these  slave  labourers  of 


*Sat.  38:  "Nee  est  quod  putes  ilium  quicquam  emere;  omnia  domi 
nascuntur."  E.  Meyer  translates  that,  "  everything  is  grown  on  his 
own  land"!  Now  the  satirist  specifies  wool,  way  (?),  pepper,  sheep, 
honey,  mushrooms,  mules,  and  cushions  with  covers  of  purple  or  scar- 
let. Do  all  of  these  things  grow  from  the  soil?  Compare  also  Petro- 
nius, ch.  48,  52,  and  53:  "nam  et  comcedos  emeram,"  etc.  That  this 
is  all  greatly  exaggerated  it  is  unnecessary  to  remind  anyone  who  has 
really  read  Petronius.  Ch.  50  speaks  of  the  purchase  of  Corinthian 
jars,  ch.  70  of  knives  made  of  Noric  iron  bought  in  Rome;  ch.  76 
of  the  shops  of  Trimalchio,  who  himself  gives  as  his  motto  the  words 
bene  emo,  bene  vendo.  But  for  a  satirtist  to  venture  such  .in  exaggera- 
tion as  Petronius  in  ch.  38  would  have  been  impossible  if  Roman  eco- 
nomic life  had  been  similar  to  that  of  to-d;iy.  A  modern  satirist  in 
a  similar  case  would  have  made  his  boaster  give  the  values  of  his 
hor^e^.  v.ins'-s,  cipar=,  his  stocks,  etc. 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


99 


the  wealthy  Roman  households.'  This  number  might  to- 
day be  considerably  increased  from  inscriptions.  One 
must  go  minutely  into  the  details  of  this  refined  subdivi- 
sion of  labour  in  order  to  understand  the  extent  and  pro- 
ductive power  of  those  gigantic  household  establishments 
that  placed  at  the  free  disposal  of  the  owner  goods  and 
services  such  as  to-day  can  be  supplied  only  by  the  numer- 
ous business  establishments  of  a  metropolitan  city  in  con- 
junction with  the  institutions  of  municipality  and  State. 
At  the  same  time  this  extensive  property  in  human  beings 
afforded  a  means  for  the  amassing  of  fortunes  equalled 
only  by  the  gigantic  possessions  of  modern  millionaires. 

The  whole  body  of  slaves  in  the  house  of  a  wealthy 
Roman  was  divided  into  two  main  groups,  the  familia 
rustica  and  the  'Mnilia  urbana.  The  familia  rustica  en- 
gages in  the  Wo  'f  production.  On  every  large  country 
estate  there  are  a  nanager  and  an  assistant  m-'nager  with 
a  staff  of  overseers  and  taskmasters  who  in  tu.  e  un- 

der them  a  considerable  company  of  field-labouiv  and 
vine-dressers,  shepherds  and  teni'ers  of  cattle,  kitchen  and 
house  servants,  women  spinners,  male  and  female  weavers, 
fullers,  tailors,  carpenters,  joiners,  smiths,  workers  in  metal 
and  in  the  occupations  connected  with  agriculture.  On 
the  larger  estates  each  group  of  labourers  is  again  divided 
into  bands  of  ten  each  (decuricr)  in  charge  of  a  leider  or 
driver  (dccurio.  moniior)}° 

The  familia  urbatia  is  divided  into  the  admi.  ..strative 
staff,  and  the  staff  for  the  service  of  master  and  mistress 
within  and  without  the  house.  First  comes  the  superin- 
tendent of  the  revenue  with  his  treasurer,  bookkeepers, 


•Titi  Popmse  Phrysii  de  operis  servorum  liber.  Editio  novisstma. 
Atnstelodami  1672. 

'"Comp.  the  graphic  account  of  work  on  a  Roman  estate  during 
the  empire,  by  M,  Weber,  Die  Wahrheit,  VI,  pp.  65,  66. 


lOO 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


supervisors  of  rents,  buyers,  etc.  If  the  proprietor  takes 
over  public  leases  or  engages  in  the  shipping  trade,  he 
keeps  for  that  purpose  a  special  staff  of  slave  officials  and 
labourers.  Attached  to  the  internal  service  of  the  house 
are  house-administrator,  porters,  attendants  in  rooms  and 
halls,  guardians  of  the  furniture,  the  plate,  and  the  robes; 
the  commissariat  is  in  charge  of  the  steward,  the  cellar- 
master,  and  the  superintendent  of  supplies;  the  kitchen 
swarms  with  a  great  company  of  cooks,  stokers,  bakers  of 
bread,  cakes,  and  pastry;  special  table-setters,  carvers, 
tasters,  and  butlers  serve  at  the  table,  while  a  company  of 
beautiful  boys,  dancing-girls,  dwarfs  and  jesters  amuse  the 
guests.  To  the  personal  service  of  the  proprietor  are  as- 
signed a  master  of  ceremonies  for  introducing  visitors, 
various  valets,  bath  attendants,  anointers,  rubbers,  sur- 
geons, physicians  for  almost  every  part  of  the  body, 
barbers,  readers,  private  secretaries,  etc.  For  service  in 
the  household  a  savant  or  philosopher  is  kept,  also  archi- 
tects, painters,  sculptors,  and  musicians;  in  the  library  are 
copyists,  parchment-polishers,  and  bookbinders,  who  un- 
der the  direction  of  the  librarian  n:ake  books  in  'le  private 
manufactory  of  the  house.  Even  slave  letter-wti.^rs  and 
stenographers  must  not  be  wanting  in  a  wealthy  house.^" 
When  the  master  appears  in  public  he  is  preceded  by  a 
large  body  of  slaves  (antcambiiloiics),  while  others  follow 
him  (fcdiscqiii);  the  nomcnclcitor  tells  him  the  name  of  those 
whom  he  meets  and  who  are  to  be  greeted;  special  dis- 
tribntorcs  and  tcsscrarii  scatter  bribes  among  the  people 
and  "  istruct  them  Iiow  to  vote.  These  are  the  camclots  of 
ancient  Rome:  and,  what  gives  them  special  value,  they 
are  the  property  of  the  distinguislied  asjiirant  employing 
them.    This  system  for  exerting  political  influence  is  sup- 

"■  Comi'.  ch.  6. 


it 


THE  RISE   OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


loi 


plemented  by  the  institution  of  plays,  chariot-races,  fights 
with  wild  beasts,  and  gladiatorial  games,  for  which  troops 
of  slaves  are  specially  trained.  If  the  lord  goes  to  a  prov- 
ince as  governor  or  sojourns  on  one  of  his  country  estates, 
slave  couriers  and  letter-carriers  maintain  daily  communi- 
cation with  the  capital.  And  how  shall  we  begin  to  tell  of 
the  slave  retinue  of  the  mistress,  on  which  Bottiger  has 
written  a  whole  book  (Sabina),  and  of  the  endlessly  spe- 
ciaHzed  service  for  the  care  and  education  of  the  children! 
It  was  an  incredible  squandering  of  human  energy  that 
here  took  place.  Lastly,  by  means  of  this  many-armed 
organism  of  independent  domestic  economy,  maintained 
as  it  was  by  a  colossal  system  of  breeding  and  training,  the 
personal  power  of  the  slave-owner  was  increased  a  thou- 
sandfold, and  this  circumstance  did  much  to  render  it  pos- 
sible for  a  handful  of  aristocrats  to  gain  control  over  half 
the  world." 

The  work  of  the  State  itself  is  not  carried  on  otherwise. 
Both  in  Athens  and  Rome  all  subordinate  officials  and  ser- 
vants are  slaves.  Slaves  build  the  roads  and  aqueducts 
whose  construction  fell  to  the  State,  work  in  quarries  and 
mines,  and  clean  the  sewers;  slaves  are  the  policemen, 
executioners  and  gaolers,  the  criers  in  public  assemblies, 
the  distributors  of  the  public  doles  of  corn,  the  attendants 


"  Naturally  this  highly  developed  slavp  system  is  only  to  be  found 
among  the  most  wealthy  class;  but  with  similar  conditions  it  recurs 
everywhere.  Ellis,  for  example,  says  in  his  History  of  Madagascar, 
I,  p.  194:  "When  a  family  has  numerous  slaves,  some  attend  to  cat- 
tle, others  are  employed  in  cultivating  esculent  roots,  others  collect 
fuel;  and  of  the  females,  some  are  cmnloycd  in  spinning,  weaving 
and  making  nets,  washing  and  other  (  mesti:  occupations."  Even 
in  the  country  of  the  Muata  Yamwo,  here,  with  the  exception  of 
smiths,  there  appear  to  have  been  no  special  craftsmen,  the  ruler  had 
in  his  household  his  own  musicians,  fetich-doctors,  smiths,  hair- 
dressers, and  female  cooks.  Pogge,  Im  Rciche  d.  Muata  Jamwo,  i  p. 
331,  187. 


I02 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


n 


of  the  colleges  of  priests  in  the  temples  and  at  sacrifices, 
the  State  treasurers,  secretaries,  the  messengers  of  the 
magistrates;  a  retinue  of  public  slaves  accompanies  every 
provincial  officer  or  general  to  the  scene  of  his  duties. 
The  means  for  their  support  came  chiefly  from  the  public 
domains,  the  tributes  of  the  provinces  (in  Athens,  of  the 
allies),  of  which  Cicero  says  that  they  are  quasi  prcedia 
populi  Romani;  and  finally,  from  contributions  resembling 
fees. 

Similar  fundamental  features  are  presented  by  the  eco- 
nomic life  of  the  Latin  and  Germanic  peoples  in  the  early 
Middle  Ages.  Here,  too,  necessary  economic  progress 
leads  to  a  further  development  of  the  autonomous  house- 
hold economy,  which  found  expression  in  those  large  hus- 
bandries worked  with  serfs  and  villeins  upon  the  exteujive 
landed  possessions  of  the  kings,  the  nobility,  and  the 
Church.  In  its  details  this  manorial  system  has  many  points 
in  common  with  the  agricultural  system  of  the  later 
Roman  Empire  as  developed  by  colonization.  It  has,  also, 
considerable  similarity  with  the  centralized  plantation  sys- 
tem described  above  from  the  closing  years  of  the  Roman 
Republic.  Tins  rise  of  husbandry  on  a  large  scale  with  its 
subdivision  of  labour  differs,  however,  in  one  important 
particular  from  the  Roman.  In  Rome  large  estates  engulf 
the  small,  and  replace  the  arm  of  the  peasant  by  that  of 
the  slave,  who  is  later  on  transformed  into  the  colonist. 
The  economic  advance  involved  in  the  extensive  o/WoS 
husbandry  had  to  be  purchased  by  the  proletarizing  of  the 
free  peasant.  In  the  manorial  system  of  the  Middle  Ages 
the  free  owner  of  a  small  estate  becomes,  it  is  true,  a  vassal. 
But  he  is  not  ejected  from  possession;  he  preserves  a  cer- 
tain personal  and  economic  independence,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  shares  in  the  fuller  supply  of  goods  which  husbandry 


'•■iSiyiH.  "»«-^»*"OF'WW 


Ji 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


103 


on  a  large  scale  provides  under  the  system  of  independent 
domestic  economy. 

How  did  this  come  about? 

In  ancient  Italy  the  small  cultivator  was  ruined  through 
his  inability  to  support  certain  public  burdens,  especially 
military  service,  and  because  the  pressure  of  war  and 
famine  drove  him  into  the  lamentable  servitude  of  the 
debtor.  In  the  Germanic  and  Latin  countries  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  he  placed  his  homestead  for  like  reasons  under 
the  control  of  the  large  landed  proprietor  from  whom  he 
received  protection  and  assistance  in  time  of  need. 

We  can  best  understand  the  mediaeval  manor  by  pic- 
turing to  ourselves  the  economic  life  of  a  whole  vil- 
lage as  a  unit  with  the  manor-house  its  central  point.** 

"Though   there   were   numerous   villages   whose   inhabitants   owed 
service  to  various  proprietors,  and  many  manors  that  included  peas- 
ant holdings  from  various  villages,  yet  the  case  here  supposed  must 
be  regarded  as  the  normal  one.    At  the  same  time  we  must  not  for- 
get that  most  of  the  original  evidence  relating  to  these  matters  that 
we  possess  refers  to  the  scattered  possessions  of  the  monasteries  for 
which  the  manors  formed  the  focal  points,  while  for  the  estates  of  the 
great,  and  still  more  so  for  those  of  the  smaller  temporal  proprietors 
in  ancient  times,  we  have  scarcely  any  matt  rial  at  all.     For  these, 
however,  our  supposed  case  is  to  be  regarded  as  normal  in  so  far  as 
the  villages  arose  through  a  colony  grouping  itself  about  a  single  es- 
tate.   For  the  purposes  of  our  sketch  we  may  also  leave  out  of  view 
the  many  distinctions  in  the  legal  position  of  those  owing  rent  and 
service  dues,  especially  the  distinction  between  those  belonging  to  the 
manor  and  those  belonging  to  the  ni.irk.     The  latter,  by  virtue  of 
the  lord's  supreme  proprietorship  over  the  common  land,  were  also 
included  in  the  economic  system  of  the  ntanor.    Finally,  I  do  not  fail 
to  appreciate  the  difference  between  the  constitution  of  the  villas  of 
Charles  the  Great  and  the  later  administrative   organization   of  the 
large  landowners,  though  I  am  of  the  opinion  that  the  latter  has  only 
superficinl  points  of  contact  with  the  economic  life  of  the  individual 
farm.      For   ;ill    further   details   I    must   refer   the   reader  to    Maurer, 
Ccsch.  il.  I  roiihofc:    Inaiua-Sternegg,  Die  AusbiUiung  d.  grosscn  Grund- 
hrrrnbaftcH  i»  Drutsihland;   and  Lamprecht,  Dcutschfs  IVtrtschaflskben 
im  Af    A     s'-prr-nlly  !,  pp.  719 ff- 


I04 


THE  RISE  OF  NMTION/tL   ECONOMY. 


'i 


Under  this  systerrf  the  small  landowner  supervises  in 
person,  the  large  landowner  through  an  overseer.  The 
demesne  land  lying  immediately  about  the  manor-house 
is  cultivated  by  serfs  permanently  attached  to  it,  who  there 
find  food  and  lodging,  and  arc  employed  in  agricultural 
and  industrial  production,  household  duties,  and  the  per- 
sonal service  of  the  lord,  under  a  many-sided  division  of 
labour.  The  demesne  land  is  intermixed  with  the  holdings 
of  a  larger  or  smaller  number  of  unfree  peasants,  each  of 
whom  tills  his  hide  of  land  independently  while  all  share 
with  the  lord  the  use  of  pasture,  wooc'  and  water.  At 
the  same  time,  however,  every  peasant-holding  binds  its 
occupant  to  perform  certain  services  and  to  furnish  cer- 
tain dues  in  natural  products  to  the  estate.  These  services 
consist  of  labour  reckoned  at  first  according  to  require- 
ment, later  according  to  time,  whether  given  in  the  fields 
at  seed-time  or  harvest,  on  the  pasture-land,  in  the  vine- 
yard, garden  or  forest,  or  in  the  manorial  workshops  or 
the  women's  building  where  the  daughters  of  the  serfs  are 
spinning,  weaving,  sewing,  baking,  brewing  beer,  etc.  On 
the  days  devoted  to  manorial  service  the  unfree  labourers 
receive  their  meals  at  the  manor-house  just  as  do  the 
manor-folk  themselves.  They  are  further  bound  to  keep 
in  repair  the  enclosures  about  the  manor-house  and  its 
fields,  to  keep  watch  over  the  house,  and  to  undertake  slie 
carrying  of  messages  ami  the  transport  of  goods.  The 
dues  in  kind  to  be  paid  to  the  estate  are  partly  agricultural 
products,  such  as  grain  of  all  kinds,  wool,  fla.x.  honey,  wax, 
wine,  cattle,  hogs,  fowl,  or  eggs;  partly  wood  cut  in  the 
forests  of  the  mark  and  made  rea<ly  for  use.  such  as  fire- 
wood, timber,  vine-stakes,  torch-wood,  shingles,  staves 
and  hoops;  partly  the  products  of  industry,  such  as  wool- 
len and  linen  cloth,  stocking^.,  shoes,  bread,  beer,  casks, 
plates,  dishes,  goblets,  iron,  pots  rind  knives.     This  pre- 


THE  RISE  OF  N/ITION/IL   ECONOMY. 


los 


supposes  alike  among  the  serfs  and  those  bound  by  feudal 
service  a  certain  specialization  of  industry,  that  would  oi 
necessny  hereditarily  attacii  to  the  hides  of  land  in  ques- 
tion and  prove  advantageous  not  merely  to  the  lord's  e:- 
tate,  but  also  to  the  occupants  of  the  hides  in  supplying 
commodities.     Intermediate  between  service  and  rent  are 
duties  of  various  kinds,  such  as  hauling  manure  from  the 
peasant's  farm  to  the  fields  of  the  lord,  keeping  cattle  over 
•winter,   providing  entertainment   for   the   guests   of   the 
manor.    Oa  the  other  har     the  lord  renders  economic  as- 
sistance to  the  peasant   i^y   keeping  breeding-stock,   by 
esta'olishing  ferries,  mills,  and  ovens  for  general  use,  by 
securing  protection  from  violence  and  injustice  to  all,  and 
by  giving  succour  from  his  stores,  in  accordance  with  his 
pledge,  when  crops  failed  or  other  need  arose. 

We  hav.  here  a  small  economic  organism  quite  suffi- 
cient uni  .self,  which  avoids  the  rigid  concentration  of 
the  Roman  slave  estates  and  employs  slaves  only  to  the 
extent  necessary  for  the  private  husbandry  of  the  landlord 
conceived  in  its  strictest  sense.' ^  For  this  reason  it  is  able 
to  secure  to  the  general  body  of  manorial  labourers  sep- 
arate agricultural  establishments  for  their  owr  domestic 
needs,  and  therewith  a  certain  personal  independence. 
This  is  an  instance  of  small  partial  private  estates  within 
the  economy  of  the  independent  household  similar  to  that 
which  occurs,  though  of  course  on  a  much  smaller  scale, 
within  the  aadruga  of  the  South  Slavs  when  conjugal 
couples  establish  separate  households.''^     When  the  man- 

» According  to  La.nprecht,  I.  p.  78^.  the  field  lahuur-scrvices  of 
the  serfs  were  applied  to  the  cultivation  of  tla-  individual  strclches  of 
manorial  land  aUundax)  or  b-aU^  [unplou«hed  ^'.npsl  >n  the  com- 
mon land,  while  the  manorial  serfs  were  employed  only  for  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  demesne, 

"  Comp.  Laveleye,  as  above,  p.  -ifi^- 


i:   1, 


kk      :»■ 


!?  ;  ••! 


1 06 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


orial  group  coincides  in  membership  with  the  people  of  a 
mark,  the  members  are  in  a  certain  sense,  owing  to  the 
regulations  forbidding  the  alienation  of  land  or  mark 
servitudes  to  non-residents,  economically  shut  off  from 
their  neighbours.  Internal  unity  is  realized  by  means  of 
separate  weights  and  measures,  which,  however,  serve  not 
for  safeguarding  trade,  but  for  measuring  the  dues  in  kind 
coming  to  the  lord. 

For  we  must  always  bear  in  mind  that  the  economic 
relation  of  the  lord  to  those  attached  to  his  land,  however 
much  it  may  be  regarded  from  the  general  point  of  view 
of  mutual  service,  is  entirely  removed  from  the  class  of 
economic  relations  that  arise  -.-om  a  system  of  exchange. 
Here  there  are  no  prices,  no  wages  for  labour,  no  land  or 
house  rent,  no  profits  on  capital,  and  accordingly  neither 
entrepreneurs  nor  wage-workers.  We  have  in  this  case 
peculiar  economic  processes  and  phenomena  to  which  his- 
torical political  economy  must  not  do  violence,  after  such 
frequent  con  plaints  of  harsh  treatment  in  the  past  at  the 
hands  of  jurisprudence. 

The  surpluses  of  the  manorial  husbandry  are  the  prop- 
erty of  the  lord.  They  consist  entirely  of  goods  for 
consumption  which  cannot  be  long  stored  up  or  turned 
into  capital.  On  the  estates  of  the  king  they  are  devoted 
as  a  rule  to  supplying  the  needs  of  the  royal  household, 
and  the  king,  travelling  with  his  retinue  from  castle  to 
castle,  claims  them  in  person;  while  the  large  landed  pro- 
prietors among  the  religious  corporations  and  the  higher 
nobility  have  them  forwarded  by  a  well-organized  trans- 
port of  their  villeins  to  their  chief  seats,  where  as  a  rule 
they  are  likewise  consumed. 

Thus  in  this  economic  system  we  have  many  of  the  phe- 
nom.na  of  commerce,  such  as  weights  and  measures,  the 
carriage  of  persons,  news,  and  goods.  !io«te!r!es,  nn;'  the 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


107 


transference  of  goods  and  services  In  all,  however,  there 
is  lacking  the  characteristic  feature  of  economic  exchange, 
namely,  the  direct  connection  of  each  single  service  with 
its  reciprocal  service,  and  the  freedom  of  action  on  the 
part  of  the  individual  units  carrying  on  trade  with  one 
another. 

But  it  matters  not  to  what  extent  independent  house- 
hold economy  may  be  developed  through  the  introduction 
of  slave  or  villein  labour,  it  will  never  succeed  even  in  its 
highest  development,  to  say  nothing  of  its  less  perfect 
forms,  in  adapting  itself  sufficiently  to  the  needs  of  human 
society  for  all  time.  Here  we  have  continuously  unfilled 
gaps  in  supply,  there  surpluses  which  are  not  consumed  on 
the  estates  producing  them,  or  fixed  instruments  of  pro- 
duction and  skilled  labour  which  cannot  be  fully  utilized. 

Out  of  this  state  of  things  arise  fresh  commercial  phe- 
nomena of  a  particular  kind.  The  landlord,  whose  harvest 
has  failed,  borrows  corn  and  straw  from  his  neighbour 
until  the  next  harvest,  when  he  returns  an  equal  quantity. 
The  man  reduced  to  distress  through  fire  or  the  loss  of  his 
cattle  is  assisted  by  the  others  on  the  tacit  understanding 
that  he  will  show  the  like  favour  in  the  like  event.  If  any- 
one has  a  particularly  expert  slave,  he  lends  him  to  a 
neighbour,  just  as  he  would  a  horse,  a  vessel,  or  a  ladder; 
in  this  case  the  slave  is  fed  by  the  neighbour.  The  owner 
of  a  wine-press,  a  malt-kiln,  or  an  oven  allovvs  his  poorer 
fellow  villager  the  temporary  use  of  it,  in  retprn  for  which 
the  latter,  on  occasion,  makes  a  rake,  helps  at  sheep-shear- 
ing, or  runs  some  errand.  It  is  a  mutual  rendering  of 
assistance;  and  no  one  will  think  of  classifying  such  occur- 
rences under  the  head  of  exchange.'** 

"  On  the  social  duty  of  lending  amonK  primitive  peoples,  comp. 
Kubary,  Ethnogr.  Btitrdge  s.  Kenntnis  d.  Karolmcn-Archiptls,  p.  i6ji. 


i'  1 


io8 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


W    I 


3   I 
ii    '! 


Finally,  however,  real  exchange  does  appear.  The  transi- 
tion-stage is  formed  of  such  processes  as  the  following: 
the  owner  of  slaves  lends  his  neighbour  a  slave  weaver  or 
carpenter,  and  receives  in  return  a  quantity  of  wine  or 
wood  of  which  his  neighbour  has  a  surplus.  Or  the  slave 
shoemaker  or  tailor,  whose  labour  cannot  be  fully  turned 
to  account,  is  settled  upon  a  holding,  on  the  condition 
that  he  work  each  year  a  certain  number  of  days  at  the 
manor.  At  times  when  he  has  no  labour  dues  to  pay  and 
little  to  do  on  his  own  land,  he  gives  his  fellow  villeins  in 
their  peasant  houses  the  benefit  of  his  skill,  receiving  from 
them  his  keep,  and  in  addition  a  quantity  of  bread  or  bacon 
for  his  family.  Formerly  he  was  merely  the  servant  of  the 
manor;  now  he  is  successively  the  servant  of  all,  but  of 
each  only  for  a  short  time.*^  At  an  early  stage  barter  in 
kind,  aiming  at  a  mutual  levelling  of  wants  and  surpluses, 
is  also  met  with,  as  corn  for  wine,  a  horse  for  grain,  a  piece 
cf  linen  cloth  for  a  quj.ntity  of  salt.  This  trading  process 
expands  owing  to  the  Hmited  occurrence  of  many  natural 
products  and  to  the  localization  of  the  production  of  goods 
for  which  there  is  a  large  demand;  and  if  the  various 
household  establishments  are  small,  and  the  adjoining  dis- 
tricts markedly  dissimilar  in  natural  endowments,  it  may 
attain  quite  a  development.' »  Certain  articles  of  this  trade 
become,  as  has  often  been  described,  general  mediums  of 
exchange,  such  as  skins,  woollen  goods,  mats,  cattle,  arti- 

"On  the  corresponding  conditions  in  Greece  and  Rome.  comp.  my 
accounts  in  the  Handwort.  d.  Staatswiss.  fjd  ed.).  IV,  pp.  ,^6g-7i. 

"To  this  circumstance  is  to  be  ascribed  the  relatively  hi^'hly  de- 
veloped weekly  market  trade  of  ancient  Greece  and  of  the  negro 
countries  of  l.i-day;  in  Oceania  the  small  size  of  the  islands  and  the 
uneciual  development  among  their  inhabitants  of  both  household  work 
and  riculture  even  calls  forth  in  places  an  active  maritime  trade. 
Similarly  is  the  oft-cited  maritime  commerce  of  the  ancient  Greeks  to 
be  regarded. 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


109 


i 


cles  of  adornment,  and  finally  the  precious  metals.  Money 
comes  into  existence,  markets  and  peddling  trade  arise; 
the  beginnings  of  buying  and  selling  on  credit  appear. 

But  all  this  affects  only  the  surface  of  the  independent 
household  economy;    and,  though  the  literature  on  the 
early  history  of  trade  and  of  markets  has  hitherto  been 
far  from  familiarizing  us  with  a  proper  estimate  of  these 
things,  yet  it  cannot  be   too   strongly   emphasized   that 
neither  among  the  peoples  of  ancient  times  nor  in  the  early 
Middle  Ages  were  the  articles  of  daily  use  the  subject  of 
regular  exchange.   Rare  natural  products,  and  locally  manu- 
factured goods  of  a  high  specific  value  form  the  few  articles 
of  commerce.    If  these  become  objects  of  general  demand, 
as  amber,  metal  implements,  ceramic  products,  spices  and 
ointments  in  ancient  times,  or  wine,  salt,  dried  fish,  and 
woollen  wares  in  the  Middle  Ages,  then  undertakings  must 
arise  aiming  at  the  production  of  a  surplus  of  these  articles. 
This  means  that  the  other  husbandries  will  produce  be- 
yond their  own  immediate  requirements  the  trade  equiva- 
lents of  those  articles  as  do  the  northern  peoples  their 
skins  and  vadhmdl,  and  the  modern  Africans  their  wares 
of  bark  and  cotton,  their  kola  nuts  and  their  bars  of  salt. 
Where  the  population  concentrates  in  town?  there  may 
even  come  into  being  an  active  market  trade  in  the  neces- 
saries of  life,  as  is  seen  in  classic  antiquity,  and  in  many 
negro  countries  of  to-day.     In  fact  even  the  carrying  on 
of  industry  and  trade  as  a  vocation  is  to  a  certain  extent 
possible. 

Still  this  does  not  affect  the  inner  structure  of  economic 
life.  The  labour  of  each  separate  household  continues  to 
receive  its  im,  .ilse  and  direction  from  the  >vants  of  its  own 
members:  it  must  itself  pro('-ice  what  it  can  for  the  satis- 
faction of  these  wants.    Its  only  regulator  is  utility.  "  That 


no 


THE  RISE  OF  NATION/IL  ECONOMY. 


>  I     I 

i   i 
I  I 


landlord  is  a  worthless  fellow,"  says  the  elder  Pliny,  "  who 
buys  what  his  own  husbandry  can  furnish  him  ";  and  this 
principle  held  good  for  many  centuries  after. 

One  must  not  be  led  away  from  a  proper  conception  of 
this  economic  stage  by  the  apparently  extensive  use  of 
money  in  early  historic  times.  Money  is  not  merely  a  me- 
dium of  exchange,  it  is  also  a  measure  of  value,  a  medium 
for  making  payments  and  for  storing  up  wealth.  Payments 
must  also  constantly  be  made  apart  from  trade,  such  as 
fines,  tribute-money,  fees,  taxes,  indemnities,  gifts  of  hon- 
our or  hospitality;  and  these  are  originally  paid  in  products 
of  one's  own  estate,  as  grain,  dried  meat,  cloth,  salt,  cattle, 
and  slaves,  which  pass  directly  into  the  household  of  the 
recipient.  Accordingly  all  earlier  forms  of  money,  and 
for  a  long  time  the  precious  metals  themselves,  circulate 
in  a  form  in  which  they  can  be  used  by  the  particular 
household  either  for  the  immediate  satisfaction  of  its  wants 
or  for  the  acquisition  by  trade  of  other  articles  of  consump- 
tion. Those  of  special  stability  of  value  are  pre-eminently 
serviceable  in  the  formation  of  a  treasure.  This  is  es- 
pecially true  of  the  precious  metals,  which  in  time  of  pros- 
perity assumed  the  form  of  rude  articles  of  adornment,  and 
as  quickly  lost  it  in  time  of  adversity.  Finally,  it  is  man- 
ifest that  the  office  of  a  measure  of  value  can  be  performed 
by  metal  money  even  when  sales  are  actually  made  in  terms 
of  other  commodities,  as  is  shown  by  the  use  in  ancient 
Egypt  of  uten,  a  piece  of  wound  copper  wire  according  to 
which  prices  were  fixed,  while  payment  was  made  in  the 
greatest  variety  of  needful  articles.^"  This  is  also  shown 
by  numerous  medi.Tval  i  ;cords  in  which,  far  beyond  the 
epoch  here  under  review,  prices  are  fixed  partly  in  money 
and  partly  in  horses,  dogs,  wine,  grain,  etc.,  or  the  pur- 

"  Frman.  Aegypten  u.  agypi.  Leben  in:  Alierium,  pp,  175,  6«7, 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


Ill 


I 

I 


chaser  is  left  at  liberty  to  make  a  money  payment  "  in  what 
he  can  "  (in  quo  potiierit).^^ 

Lamprecht,  discussing  economic  life  in  France  in  the 
eleventh  century,  affirms  that  purchases  were  made  only 
in  cases  of  want;2»  the  same  holds  in  the  main  for  sales 
as  well.    Exchange  is  an  element  foreign  to  independent 
household  economy,  and  its  entrance  was  resisted  as  long 
and  as  stubbornly  as  possible.     Purchase  always  means 
purchase  with  immediate  payment,  and  it  is  attended  with 
solemn  and  cumbrous  formalities.    The  earliest  municipal 
law  of  Rome  prescribes  that  the   purchase  must   take 
place  before  five  adult  Roman  citizens  as  witnesses.    The 
rough  copper  that  measures  the  price  is  weighed  out 
to  the  seller  by  a  trained  weigh-master  Qibripens),  while  the 
purchaser  makes  a  solemn  declaration  as  he  takes  posses- 
sion of  the  purchased  article.    Contrasting  with  this  the 
formal  minuteness  of  early  German  trade  laws,  we  are  eas- 
ily convinced  that  in  the  economic  period  which  witnessed 
the  creation  of  this  rigid  legal  formalism  buying  and  sell- 
ing, and  the  renting  of  land  or  house,  could  not  be  every- 
day affairs.      Exchange  value  accordingly   exercised   no 
deep  or  decisive  influence  on  the  internal  economy  of  the 
separate  household.    The  latter  knev;  only  production  for 
its  own  requirements;  or,  when  sncn  production  fell  short, 
the  practice  of  making  gifts  with  the  expectation  of  re- 
ceiving others  in  return,  of  borrowing  needful  articles  and 

"  Under  similar  circumstances  the  same  is  true  to-day.  "  Through- 
out West,  Central,  and  East  Africa  quite  definite  and  often  quite  com- 
plex standards  for  the  exchange  of  goods  have  been  formed,  just  as 
among  ourselves,  but  with  this  diflference.  that  coined  money  is  gen- 
erally wanting.  This,  however,  by  no  means  prevents  the  existence 
of  a  system  of  intermediate  values,  though  it  be  but  as  notions  and 
names."— Buchner,  Kamerun.  p.  93. 

"Fransos.  Wirtsckaftsleben,  p.  132.  Comp.  further  his  Deutsches 
Wirtschaftsleben  im  M.  A.,  II,  pp.  374  S- 


Ill 


112 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


implements,  and,  if  need  be,  of  plundering.  The  develop- 
ment of  hospitality,  the  legitimizing  of  begging,  the  union 
of  nomadic  life  and  early  sea-trade  with  robbery,  the  ex- 
traordinary prevalence  of  raids  on  field  and  cattle  among 
primitive  agricultural  peoples,  are  accordingly  the  usual 
concomitants  of  the  indep>endent  household  economy. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  will  be  clear  that  under  this 
method  of  satisfying  needs  the  fundamental  economic  phe- 
nomena must  be  dissimilar  to  those  of  modern  national 
economy.  Wants,  labour,  production,  means  of  produ''- 
tion,  product,  stores  for  use,  value  in  use,  consumption — 
these  few  notions  exhaust  the  circle  of  economic  phenom- 
ena in  the  regular  course  of  things.  As  there  is  no  social 
division  of  labour,  there  are  consequently  no  professional 
classes,  no  industrial  establishments,  no  capital  in  the  sense 
of  a  store  of  goods  devoted  to  acquisitive  purposes.  Our 
classification  of  capital  into  business  and  trade  capital,  loan 
and  consumption  capital,  is  entirely  excluded.  If,  conform- 
ably to  widely  accepted  usage,  th<  expression  capital  is 
restricted  to  means  of  production,  then  it  must  in  any  case 
be  limited  to  tools  and  implements,  the  so-called  fixed 
capital.  What  modern  theorists  usually  designate  circu- 
lating capital  is  in  the  independent  household  economy 
merely  a  store  of  consumption  goods  in  process  of  prep- 
aration, unfinished  or  half-finisbed  products.  In  the  regu- 
lar course  of  affairs,  moreover,  there  are  no  sale-goods,  no 
price,  no  circulation  of  commodities,  no  distribution  of 
income,  and.  therefore,  no  labour  wages,  no  earnings  of 
management,  and  no  interest  as  particular  varieties  of  in- 
come.^^    Rent  alone  begins  to  differentiate  itself  from  the 


1 


"  For  most  of  the  conceptions  here  mentioned  there  are  no  ex- 
pressions in  Greek  or  Latin.  They  must  be  expressed  by  circumlo- 
cutions or  by  viTv  ccneral  terms.  This  is  true,  in  the  first  instance, 
of  the  conception  income  itself.  The  Latin  rcditus  denotes  the  returns 
from  the  land.     Tacitus  makes  use  of  a  similar  liberty  wher.  (Ann., 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


"J 


return  from  the  soil,  still  appearing,  however,  only  in  com- 
bination with  other  elements  of  income. 

Perhaps,  indeed,  it  is  improper  at  this  stage  to  speak  of 
income  at  all.  What  we  call  income  is  normally  the  fruit 
of  commerce;  in  independent  domestic  economy  it  is  the 
sum  of  the  consumption  goods  produced,  the  gross  return. 
This  return,  however,  is  all  the  more  inseparable  from 
general  wealth  the  more  the  subjection  of  the  husbandry 
to  the  hazard  of  the  elements  compels  the  accumulation  of 
a  store  of  goods.  Income  and  wealth  form  indistinguish- 
able parts  of  a  whole,  one  part  of  which  is  ever  moving 
upward  towards  availability  for  use,  another  part  down- 
ward to  consumption,  while  a  third  is  stored  up  in  chest 
and  box,  in  cellar  or  storehouse,  as  a  kind  of  assurance 
fund. 

To  the  last  belongs  money.  In  so  far  as  it  is  used  in 
trade  it  is  for  the  recipient  as  a  rule  not  a  provisional  but  a 
final  equivalent.  It  plays  its  chief  part  not  as  an  intermedi- 
ary of  exchange,  but  as  a  store  of  value  and  as  a  means  of 
measuring  and  transferring  values.  Loans  from  one  eco- 
nomic unit  to  another  do  indeed  take  place;  but  as  a  rule 
they  bear  no  interest,  and  are  made  only  for  purposes  of 
consumption.  Productive  credit  is  incompatible  with  this 
economic  system.  Where  money-lending  on  interest  in- 
trudes itself  it  appears  unnatural,  and,  as  we  know  from 
Greek  and  Roman  history,  is  ultimately  ruinous  to  the 
debtor.  The  canonical  prohibition  of  usury  thus  had  its 
origin  not  in  moral  or  theological  inclination,  but  in  eco- 
nomic necessity. 

IV,  6,  3)  he  designates  the  revenues  of  the  state  as  fructus  publici. 
Compare  with  this  the  numerous  and  finely  distiuKui^hed  expressions 
for  the  conception  wealth.  Mcrccs  means  not  only  waf^es.  but  also 
land-rent,  house-rent,  interest,  price.  So  also  the  Greek  nurdot. 
For  the  expressions  vocation,  occupation,  undertaking,  industry, 
neither  of  the  classic  languages  has  corresponding  itniis. 


114 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


I 


r!  I 


Where  a  direct  state  tax  arose,  it  was  regularly  a  tax  on 
wealth,  generally  a  species  of  land-tax.  Such  was  the 
Athenian  ei(T<t>opd,  the  Roman  tributum  civium,  and  the 
scot  or  the  bede  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Along  with  these 
demand  was  made  upon  the  wealth  of  the  individual  for 
direct  services  to  the  State  or  community,  such  as  the 
furnishing  ships,  the  institution  of  festivals  an.d  enter- 
tainments (liturgies).  The  idea  of  taxing  income,  how- 
ever natural  and  self-evident  it  may  appear  to  us,  would 
have  been  simply  inconceivable  to  our  ancestors. 

By  a  process  extending  over  centuries  this  independent 
household  economy  is  transformed  into  the  system  of  direct 
exchange;  in  the  place  of  production  solely  for  domestic 
use  steps  custom  production.  We  have  designated  this 
stage  town  economy,  because  it  reached  its  typical  develop- 
ment in  the  towns  of  the  Germanic  and  Latin  countries 
during  the  Middle  Ages.  Still  it  must  not  be  forgotten 
that  even  in  ancient  times  beginnings  of  such  a  develop- 
ment ?r-  [t  ceptibic-,  ind  that  at  a  later  date  they  also 
appeared  in  the  more  advanced  Slavic  countries,  albeit  in 
considerably  divergent  form. 

The  transition  to  this  economic  stage  is  seen  at  the 
stage  of  domestic  economy  itself  in  the  loss  by  the  sep- 
arate household,  founded  upon  the  cultivation  of  the  soil, 
of  a  part  of  its  independence  through  inability  longer  to 
satisfy  all  its  needs  with  its  own  labour,  and  through  the 
necessity  of  permanent  and  regular  reinforcement  from 
the  products  of  other  estates.  Yet  there  do  not  spring  up 
at  once  establishments  independent  of  the  soil,  whose 
members  would  derive  their  income  entirely  from  the 
working  up  of  industrial  commodities  for  others,  or  the 
professional  performance  of  services,  or  the  conducting 
of  exchange.  On  the  contrary,  each  proprietor  still  seeks, 
as  far  as  possible,  to  gain  his  livelihood  from  the  land;  if 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


"S 


t' 


% 


4 

I 


his  wants  go  beyond  this,  he  calls  into  requisition  any 
special  manual  skill  he  may  possess,  or  any  particular  pro- 
ductive advantage  of  his  district,  whether  in  field,  forest, 
or  water,  in  order  to  produce  a  surplus  of  some  particular 
article.  One  will  produce  grain,  another  wine,  a  third  salt, 
a  fourth  fisli,  a  fifth  iinen  or  some  other  product  of  domes- 
tic industry.  In  this  manner  separate  establishments  come 
into  existence  specially  developed  in  some  one  direction, 
and  dependent  upon  a  regular,  reciprocal  barter  of  their 
surplus  products.  This  exchange  does  not  at  first  demand 
an  organized  system  of  trade.  But  it  does  require  more 
flexible  commercial  methods  than  were  offered  by  the 
early  laws.  These  are  furnished  by  markets  which  still 
arise,  in  the  main,  under  the  household  system. 

A  market  is  the  coming  together  of  a  large  number  of 
buyers  and  sellers  in  a  definite  place  and  at  a  definite  time. 
Whether  this  occur  in  connection  with  religious  feasts  and 
other  popular  gatherings,  or  whether  it  owes  its  origin  to 
the  favourable  commercial  situation  of  a  locality,  it  is  al- 
ways an  opportunity  for  producer  and  consumer  to  meet 
with  their  mutual  trade  requirements;  and  such  in  its  gen- 
eral features  it  has  remained  down  to  the  present  day. 
Markets  and  fixed  trade  are  mutually  exclusive.  Where 
a  merchant  class  exists,  no  markets  are  needed;  where 
there  are  markets,  merchants  are  superfluous.  Only  in 
cases  where  a  country  must  imf>ort  articles  for  which  there 
is  a  demand  and  which  it  does  not  itself  produce  can  there 
be  developed  at  the  early  stage  of  household  economy  a 
distinct  though  not  very  numerous  class,  uniting  under 
their  control  the  purchase,  transport,  and  sale  of  these 
goods,  and  utilizing  for  this  last  purpose  the  trade  oppor- 
tunities presented  by  the  markets. 

What  changes,  t  •=■  i,  were  wrought  in  this  condition  of 
things  by  the  medu^val  town,  and  in  what  does  the  eco- 


in 


Ml 


no 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


nomic  system  which  we  have  designated  as  exclusive  town 
economy  consist? 

The  medi;c\al  town  is  al)ove  all  things  a  biirg,  that  is. 
a  place  fortified  with  nails  and  moats  which  serves  as  a  ref- 
uge and  shelter  for  the  inhabitants  of  the   unprotected 
places  round  about.     Every  lown  thus  presupposes  the 
existence  of  a  defensive  union  which  forms  the  ru^al  sei- 
tlements  lying  within  a  greater  or  narrower  radius  into  a 
sort  of  mihtary  community  with  definite  rights  and  duties. 
It  devolves  upoi.  all  the  places  belonging  to  this  commun- 
ity to  cooperate  in  maintaining  imact  the  town  fortifica- 
tions bv  furnishing  workmen  and  horses,  and  in  time  of 
war  in 'defending  them  with  their  arms.     In  return  they 
have  the  right,  whenever  occasion  arises,  to  shelter  them- 
selves  their  wives  and  children,  their  cattle  and  movables, 
within  its  walls.    This  right  is  called  the  right  of  burgess, 
and  he  who  enjoys  it  is  a  burgher  {hurgcnsis). 

Oi-iginallv  the  permanent  inhabitants  of  the  town  differ 
in  nowise,  not  even  in  their  occupations,  from  those  living 
in  the  rural  hamlets.    Like  the  latter  they  follow  farming 
and  cattle-raising;   thcv  use  wood,  water,  and  pasture  in 
common;    their  dwellings,  as  may   =^ill  be   seen   in   the 
structural  arrangement  of  many  old  cities,  are  farmhouses 
with  barns  and  stables  and  large  yards  !)etween.    But  their 
communal  life  is  not  exhausted  in  the  regulation  of  com- 
mon pasturage  and  other  agricultural  interests.    They  arc. 
so  to  speak,  a  permanent  garrison  stationed  in  the  burg, 
and  perform  in  rotation  the  daily  watch-service  on  tower 
and  at  gate.    Whoever  wishes  to  settle  permanently  in  the 
town  must  therefore  not  only  be  possessed  of  land,  or  a 
house  at  least:  he  must  also  be  provided  rvilh  weapons  and 

armour. 

The    s<      -icl    service    and    the   extensive    area   of   the 
tovM.  rcn.    rcr       cc^^ary  by  the  law  of  burgess  demanded 


THE  RISE  OF  NATION /tL   ECONOMY. 


117 


a  great  number  of  men;  and  soon  ihc  ,.  vn  limits  no 
longer  srfticed  for  tlieir  maintenance.  Then  it  was  that 
the  one-sided  dcvclopnient  of  the  household  establish- 
ments, already  described,  lent  its  intlnence.  and  the  town 
became  the  seat  of  the  industries  and  of  the  markets  as 
well.  In  the  latter  the  country  peasant  continued  to  dis- 
pose of  his  surplus  supplies,  obtaining  from  the  townsman 
that  which  he  himself  could  no  longer  provide  and  which 
the  latter  now  exclusively  or  almost  exclusively  produced, 
namely,  industrial  products. 

The  burgess  rights  underwent  a  consetiucnt  extension. 
All  who  enjoyed  them  were  exempt  from  market  dues  and 
town  tolls.  The  right  of  free  purchase  and  sale  in  the  town 
market  is  thus  in  its  origin  an  emanation  from  the  rights 
of  burgess.  In  this  way  the  military  defensive  union  be- 
came a  territorial  economic  comnumity  based  upon  mutual 
and  direct  exchange  of  agricultural  and  industrial  products 
by  the  respecti-,  c  producers  and  consumers. 

All  market  traders  on  their  way  to  and  from  a  market 
enjoyed — doubtless  also  in  the  period  previous  to  the  rise 
of  towns — a  particularly  active  royal  protection,  which  was 
further  extended  to  the  market  itself  and  to  the  whole 
market-town.  The  effects  of  this  market-peace  were  to 
secure  the  market  tradesmen  during  the  time  of  their  so- 
journ in  the  town  against  legal  prosecution  for  debts  previ 
ously  incurred,  and  to  visit  injuries  inflicted  upon  their 
property  or  person  with  doubly  severe  punishment  as  be- 
ing extraordmary  breaches  of  the  peace.  The  market 
tra<lcsnien  arc  commonly  known  as  Kattflcutc.  niciratorrs. 
fici^otiatoirs,  cmf'forcs.'^ 

'*  Recent  litcr.iture  nlatinpr  to  the  oriRin  nf  the  constitution  of  Ticr- 
m.in  (owns  h.is  overlooked  the  very  wi<!e  significance  of  the  word 
Kaufmann  and  ini.TKincd  that  the  innnmerablo  towns  cxistin^r  within 
the   tJn'iiiaii    Iiini>irc    lort.irils    iht    liuM-    of    lilt?    Miiliiic;    .'\k*;>,    lloul 


m 


li } 


I 


ii8 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


Inasmuch  as  the  town  inhabitai.cj  were  themselves  pecu- 
liarly dependent  upon  the  market  for  their  buying  and 

Cologne  and  Augsburg  down  to  Medebach  and  Radolfzell,  were  in- 
habited by  merchants  in  the  modern  sense  of  the  term,  that  is,  by  a 
specialized  class  of  professional  tradesmen,  who  are  as  a  rule   still 
represented  as   wholesale  merchants.     All  economic   history   revolts 
against  such  a  conception.    What  did  these  people  deal  in,  and  in 
what  did  they  make  payment  for  their  wares?    Besides,  the  very  terms 
used  are  opposed  to  it     The  most  prominent  characteristic  of  the 
professional  merchant  in  his  relation  to  the  public  is  not  his  custom 
of  buying,  but  of  selling.    Yet  the  chapman  (Kaufmann)  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  is  named  from  the  word  for  buying— fea«/fn.     In  the  State 
records  of  Otto  III.  for  Dortmund  from  99°  to  looo  a.d.  the  emptores 
Trotmannice,  whose  municipal  laws,  like  those  of  Cologne  and  Mainz, 
are  said  to  serve  as  a  model  for  other  cities,  are  spoken  of  in  the 
same  connection  as  mercatores  or  negotiatores  in  other  records.    If  the 
abbot  of  Reichenau  in  the  year  I07b  can  with  a  stroke  of  the  pen 
transform  the  peasants  of  Allensbach  and  their  descendants  into  mer- 
chants (ut  »7>«  et  eorum  posteri  sint  mercatores),  no  possible  ingenuity 
of  interpretation  can  explain  this  if  we   have  in   mind  professional 
tradesmen.    That  in  point  of  fact  merchant  meant  any  man  who  sold 
wares  in  the  market,  no  matter  whether  he  himself  had  produced  them 
or  bought  the  greater  part  of  them,  is  evident,  for  example,  from  an 
unprinted  declaration  of  the  Council  of  Frankfurt  in  1420  regarding 
the  toll  called  Marklrerhl  (in  Book  No.  3  of  the  Municipal  Archives, 
Fol.   80).     There  we   find  at  the   beginning  that  this  toll   is  to  be 
paid  by  "  every  merchant  who  stands  on  the  street  with  his  merchan- 
dise,  whatsoever  it   be."     Then   follow,    specified   in   detail,   the    in- 
dividual "  merchants  "   or  the   "  merchandise  "   affected  by  this  toll. 
From  the  lengthy  list  the  following  instances  may  be  given:    dealers 
in    old    clothes,    pastry-books,    food-vendors,    rope-makers,    hazelnut- 
sellers,  egg-  and  chet'se-scllcrs  with  their  carts,  poultry-vendors  who 
carry  about   their  baskets  on   thoir  backs,   strangers  having  in   their 
possession  more  than  a  maltcr  of  cheese,  cobblers,  money-changers, 
bakers  who  use  the   market-stalls,  strangers  with   bread-carts,  geese, 
wagons  of  vitch  (fodder),  straw,  hay,  cabbages,  all  vendors  of  linen, 
flax,  hemp,  yarn,  who  sell  their  wares  upon  the  street.    Here  we  have 
a  confused  medley  of  small  tradesmen  of  the  town,  artisans  and  peas- 
ants.   That  buyers  as  well  as  .sellers  on  the  market  were  designated  as 
KauAeute  (merchants)  is  evident  from  numerous  records;  in  fact,  pas 
sages  might  be  cited  in  which,  when  the  merchant  is  spoken  of,  it  is 
the  buyer  that  seems  to  be  chicHy  meant. 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECO'"OMY. 


119 


selling,  the  specific  name  of  market  people  or  merchants 
was  more  and  more  applied  to  thtxii  as  the  importance  of 
the  market  as  their  source  of  sinply  increased.  Propor- 
tionately with  this  change,  however,  the  region  from  which 
this  market  drew  its  supplies  and  to  which  it  sold  extended 
farther  into  the  country.  No  longer  did  it  coincide  with 
the  domain  of  burgess  rights,  whose  importance  for  the 
rural  population  must  of  itself  have  diminished  with  the 
incre-sing  security  of  the  whole  country  against  external 
attack.  On  the  other  hand,  with  the  growth  of  the  indus- 
tries the  whole  town,  and  not  merely  the  space  originally 
set  apart  for  the  exclusive  purpose,  became  the  market; 
market-peace  became  town-peace,  and  for  the  maintenance 
of  the  latter  the  town  was  separated  from  the  general  state 
administration  as  a  special  judicial  district.  "  City  air 
makes  free  "  became  r.  principle.  Thus  arose  a  social 
and  legal  gu'f  between  burgher  and  peasant  which  the 
thirteenth  anJ.  ^urteenth  centuries  vainly  sought  to  bridge 
over  by  an  extramural  and  intramural  citizenship.  The 
name  burgher  was  finally  restricted  to  the  members  of  the 
communit,  settled  within  the  town  limits;  and  the  times 
lent  to  this  title  a  legal  and  Moral  significance  in  vhich  the 
state  idea  of  the  ancient  Greeks  appeared  to  have  returned 

to  lif?. 

We  cannot  here  occupy  ourselves  further  either  with  the 
development  of  the  municipal  constitution  and  its  self- 
administration  ba.sed  upon  corporative  gr?''ations,  or  with 
the  political  power  which  the  towns  of  Germany,  France, 
and  Italy  obtained  in  the  later  Middle  Ages.  We  have  to 
do  only  with  the  matured  economic  organization  of  which 
these  towns  fonned  the  central  points. 

If  we  take  a  map  of  the  old  German  Empire  and  mark 
upon  it  the  places  that,  up  to  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
had  received  grants  of  municipal  rights — there  were  prob- 


il 


I20 


TH       JSB  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


ably  some  three  thousand  of  them — we  see  the  country 
dotted  with  towns  at  an  average  distance  of  four  to  five 
hours'  journev  in  the  south  ami  west,  and  in  the  north  and 
east  of  seven  to  eight.  All  were  not  of  equal  importance; 
but  the  majority  of  them  in  their  time  were,  or  at  least  en- 
deavoured to  be,  the  economic  centres  for  their  territory, 
leading  just  as  independent  an  existence  as  the  manor  be- 
fore them.  In  order  to  form  a  conception  of  the  size  of 
these  districts,  let  us  imagine  the  whole  country  evenly 
divided  among  the  existing  municipalities.  In  this  way 
each  town  in  southwestern  Germany  has  on  the  average 
forty  to  somewhat  over  fifty  square  miles,  in  the  central 
antl  northeastern  parts  between  sixty  and  eighty-five,  and 
in  the  eastern  from  somewhat  over  one  hundred  to  one 
hundred  and  seventy.  Let  us  imagine  the  town  as  always 
situated  in  the  centre  of  such  a  section  of  country,  and  it 
becomes  plain  that  in  almost  every  part  of  Germany  the 
peasant  from  the  most  distant  rural  settlement  was  able 
to  reach  the  town  market  in  one  day.  and  be  home  again 
by  nightfall.-"' 

The  whole  body  of  municipal  market  law.  as  formulated 
in  early  times  by  the  lords  of  the  town  and  later  by  the 

^'.MthouRh  since  the  Middle  Ages  muny  places  have  lost  their  town 
franchises,  while  others  have  gained  them  for  the  first  time,  yet  the 
number  of  places  that  to-day  bear  the  name  of  town  (Stadt)  furnishes 
a  pretty  correct  idea  of  what  it  then  was.  There  is  in  Baden  at  pres- 
ent one  city  t'>  every  132  s(iuare  kilometres  of  territory  [i  s(i.  km.  = 
about  I  S(|.  nii'el.  in  Wiirtemberg  to  i.M.  in  Alsace-Lorraine  to  137, 
in  Ifessc  to  118.  in  the  kingdom  of  Saxony  to  105.  in  Hesse-N'assau 
to  145.  in  the  Rhine  Province  to  19J.  in  Westphalia  to  ig6.  in  the 
province  of  Saxony  to  i;5,  in  Brandenburg  to  Jgi.  in  the  kingdom  of 
Bavaria  to  328.  in  Hanover  to  341.  in  Schleswig-Holstein  to  350.  in 
Pomcrania  to  41J,  in  West  Prussia  to  473.  and  in  East  Prussia  to  552. 
The  fever  for  founding  tnunicipalities.  which  racked  many  medixval 
rulers,  called  into  existence  a  multitude  of  towns  that  lacked  vitality. 
Well  known  is  the  prohibition  in  the  Saihsensfiegel  that  "  No  market 
shall  be  founded  within  a  mile  of  anoih..."    Weiske,  III,  66,  1 1. 


THE  RISE  OF  1^  AT  ION  A  L  ECONOMY. 


121 


town  councillors,  is  summed  up  in  the  two  principles,  that, 
as  far  as  at  all  possible,  sales  must  be  public  and  at  first  hand, 
and  that  everything  ixjhich  can  be  produced  zvithin  the  toz^'n 
itself  shall  be  produced  there.  For  products  of  local  manu- 
'acture  intermediary  trade  was  forbidden  to  everyone,  even 
to  the  artisans;  it  was  permitted  with  imported  goods  only 
when  they  had  already  been  vainly  offered  on  the  '^-  .et. 
The  constant  aim  was  to  meet  amply  and  at  a  just  price 
the  wants  of  the  home  consumers,  and  to  give  full  satis- 
faction to  the  foreign  customers  of  local  industry. 

The  territory  from  which  supplies  were  drawn  for  the 
town  market,  and  that  to  which  it  furnished  commodities, 
was  identical.  The  inhabitants  of  the  countr\-  brought  in 
victuals  and  raw  materials,  and  with  what  they  realized 
paiil  for  the  labour  of  the  town  craftsmen,  either  in  the 
direct  form  of  wage-work  or  in  the  indirect  form  of  finished 
products,  which  had  been  previously  ordered  or  were  se- 
lected in  the  open  market  from  the  artisan's  stand. 
Burgher  and  peasant  thus  stood  in  the  relationship  of  mu- 
tual customers:  what  the  one  produced  the  other  always 
needed;  and  a  large  part  of  this  exchange  trade  was  per- 
formed without  the  mediation  of  money,  or  in  such  a  way 
that  money  was  introduced  only  to  adjust  differences  in 
value. 

Town  handicraft  had  an  exclusive  right  of  sale  on  the 
market.  The  productions  of  other  places  were  aumitted 
only  when  the  industry  in  cpiestion  had  no  representatives 
within  the  town.  They  were  usually  offered  for  sale  by  the 
foreign  producers  at  the  annual  fairs;  at  this  one  point 
the  spheres  of  the  various  town  tvuirkcts  overlap.  But 
even  here  the  most  essential  feature,  the  direct  sale  by 
producer  to  consume*,  is  also  observed,  though  only  in 
exceptional  instances.  If  a  trade  capable  of  supporting  a 
craftsman  was  not  represented  in  the  town,  the  council 


i2a 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


^■% 


called  in  a  skilled  master  workman  from  outside  and  in- 
duced him  to  settle  by  exemption  from  taxation  and  other 
privileges.  If  he  required  considerable  initial  capital,  the 
town  itself  came  to  his  aid,  and  at  its  own  expense  built 
work-  and  sale-shops  and  established  mills,  grin^.ing- 
works,  cloth-frames,  bleaching-places,  dye-houses,  fulling- 
mills,  etc., — all  with  a  view  to  satisfying  the  greatest  pos- 
sible variety  of  wants  by  home  production. 

Although  direct  dealing  with  the  consumer  of  his 
wares  ^^  tended  necessarily  to  keep  alive  in  the  artisan  a 
sense  of  personal  responsibility,  an  effort  was  made  to 
brace  this  moral  relationship  by  .special  ordinances.  Hand- 
work is  an  office  that  must  be  administered  for  the  general 
welfare.  The  master  shall  furnish  "  honest  "  work.  So  far 
as  the  personal  services  of  the  craftsman  remained  avail- 
able to  his  customers,  a  regular  rate  was  fixed  governing 
the  amount  he  could  claim  in  wages  and  board  while  on  his 
itinerancy.  In  cases  where  the  customer  furnished  him 
with  the  raw  material  in  his  own  home,  as,  for  instance,  tin 
to  the  pewterer,  silver  and  gold  to  the  goldsmith,  or  yarn 
to  the  weaver,  provision  was  made  that  it  should  not  be 
adulterated.  Where,  on  the  contrary,  the  artisan  supplied 
the  material  there  were  erected  in  the  market,  about  the 
churches,  at  the  town  gates,  or  in  particular  streets,  public 
sale-booths  which  often  served  also  as  work-shops  (bread- 
stands,  meat-stalls,  drapers'  and  cloth  shops,  furriers' 
booths,  shoemakers'  benches,  etc.).  It  was  a  market  rule 
that  those  vending  the  same  wares  should  do  their  selling 
alongside  one  another  in  open  and  mutual  competition 
and  under  the  supervision  of  the  market  wardens  and  over- 

"  Here  and  there  this  was  further  secured  by  the  regulation  that 
not  even  the  wife  of  the  craftsman  might  represent  him  in  selling. 
Comp.  Gramich,  V'erf.  h.  Verw.  d-  St.  Wiirsburg  vom.  XIII.  bis  XF. 
Jkdt.,  pp.  38  f. 


THE  RISE  OF  NATION/IL  ECONOMY. 


X23 


seers,  and  this  rule  was  extended  to  craftsmen  who  merely 
worked  at  home  on  orders,  in  that  for  the  most  part  they 
lived  side  by  side  on  the  same  street.  Many  cities  have 
preserved  to  the  present  day  the  remembrance  of  this  con- 
dition of  things  in  the  names  of  their  streets  (such  as  Shoe- 
maker, Turner,  Weaver,  Cooper,  Butcher,  Fisher  Streets), 
many  of  which  led  directly  into  the  old  market  square.  In 
this  way  the  greatest  part  of  the  town,  or  even  the  whole  of 
it,  bore  the  outward  aspect  of  one  large  market.  It 
is  well  known  that  the  many  prescriptions  regarding  the 
raw  material  to  be  used,  the  method  of  doing  work,  the 
length  and  breadth  of  cloths,  and  the  direct  regulation  of 
prices  must  have  served  for  the  protection  of  the  con- 
sumer.^® 

Just  as  the  urban  craftsman  enjoyed  within  the  town 
and  the  extramural  judicial  district  {Banmneile)  the  ex- 
clusive right  of  selling  the  products  of  his  handicraft,  so 
the  urban  consumer  possessed  for  the  same  area  the  ex- 
clusive right  to  purchase  imported  commodities.  This 
right  can  be  exercised,  to  be  sure,  only  when  the  imported 
goods  actually  come  to  market  and  stand  on  sale  for  the 
proper  length  of  time.  To  effect  this  a  law  of  staple  is 
introduced;  foreselling  in  the  country  places  or  before  the 
town  gates  is  forbidden;  selling  to  middlemen,  artisans, 
and  strangers  is  permitted  only  after  the  consumers  are 
supplied,  and  then  usually  with  the  limitation  that  the  lat- 
ter, if  they  so  wish,  may  have  a  share;  and  lastly,  the 
withdrawing  of  goods  once  brought  to  market  was  for- 
bidden, or  permitted  only  after  they  had  remained  three 
days  unsold.^^ 

**  For  the  sake  of  brevity  we  refer  for  all  details  in  this  connection 
to  Stieda  in  the  Jhb.  f.  N.-6k.  u.  Statistik,  XXVII.  pp.  91  «• 

"These  ordinances  were  most  carefully  wrought  out  for  the  corn 
trade.  Sec  Schmolkr,  Jhb.  f.  Gcsetzg.  Verw,  u.  Volksw.,  XX.  pp. 
708  flf. 


124 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


I   1 

I 


'•*•  3    » 


But  against  the  foreign  'seller  there  always  prevails  a 
deep-rooted  mistrust.  To  t  lis  is  due  the  existence  of  that 
peculiar  system  of  exchange  through  official  interme- 
diaries, measurers,  and  weighers.  To-day  the  State  con- 
trols weights  and  measures  by  official  standards  and  pui^lic 
inspections,  and  leaves  the  terms  to  the  buyers  and  sellers 
themselves.  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  technical  means  for 
constructing  exact  measures  and  ensuring  their  accuracy 
were  wanting.  Common  field-stones — and  at  the  Frank- 
furt fairs  as  late  as  the  fifteenth  century  even  wooden 
blocks — were  used  as  weights.  In  order,  however,  to  de- 
termine accurately  the  amount  of  goods  exchanged,  the 
handling  of  the  measures  was  withdrawn  from  the  parties 
themselves  and  entrusted  to  special  officers,  whose  pres- 
ence was  made  obligatory  at  every  sale  made  by  an  out- 
sider. It  was  the  duty  of  these  intermediaries  to  bring 
buyer  and  seller  together,  to  assist  in  fixing  the  price,  to 
test  the  goods  for  possible  defects,  to  select  for  the  pur- 
chaser the  quantity  he  had  bought,  and  to  see  to  its  propci- 
delivery.  The  intermediary  was  forbidden  to  trade  for 
himself;  he  was  not  even  allowed  at  the  departure  of  the 
foreign  tradesnnn,  whom  he  generally  lodged,  to  purchase 
remnants  of  goods  remaining  unsold. 

This  system  of  direct  exchange  is  found,  though  with 
many  local  peculiarities,  carried  out  to  the  most  min- 
ute details  in  all  mediaeval  towns.  This  means. that  the 
actual  circumstances  in  which  its  principles  were  devel- 
oped render  it  inevitable.  How  far  it  was  really  prac- 
ticable can  only  be  decided  when  we  are  able  to  determine 
what  proportions  trade  assumed  under  it. 

It  is  beyond  question  that  a  retail  trade  had  taken  root 
in  the  town;,.  To  it  belonged  all  who  "  sel!  pennyworths 
for  the  poor  man."  To  understand  this,  we  nvast  bear  in 
mind  that  all  well-to-do  townspeople  were  accustomed 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


1  =  5 


to  purchase  their  supplies  directly  from  foreign  merchants 
at  the  weekly  and  yearly  markets.  The  poor  man  was 
unable  to  make  provision  for  any  length  of  time;  he  lived, 
as  he  does  to-day,  "  from  hand  to  mouth."  For  him  the 
retail  tradesman,  accordingly,  undertook  the  keeping  of 
stores  for  daily  sale. 

We  can  distinguish  three  groups  of  such  small  trades- 
men, namely,  grocers,  peddlers,  and  cloth-dealers.  In  the 
earlier  half  of  the  period  of  town  economy  the  last  were 
the  most  important,  as,  in  many  towns  there  was  no  local 
wool-weaving  done.  With  its  development  their  activity 
was  limited  to  the  handling  of  the  finer  kinds  of  Dutch 
cloths,  silks,  and  cottons,  or  else  they  made  room  for  the 
weavers  in  their  shops. 

The  ti'holcsalc  trade  was  exclusively  itinerant  and  market 
or  fair  trade;  and  down  to  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages 
the  majority  of  the  towns  probably  saw  no  merchants 
settled  within  their  walls  who  carried  on  wholesale  trade 
from  permanent  headquarters.  Only  commodities  not  pro- 
duced within   the   more   or  less  extensive  district   from 
which  a  town  drew  its  supplies  were  the  subject  of  whole- 
sale trade.     We  know  of  but  five  kinds:  (i)  spices  and 
southern  fruits,  (2)  dried  and  salted  fish,  which  were  then 
a  staple  food  of  the  people,  (3)  furs,  (4)  fine  cloths,  (5)  for 
the  North  German  towns,  wine.     In  certain  parts  of  Ger- 
many salt  would  also  have  to  be  included.     In  most  cases, 
however,  the  town  council  ordered  it  in  large  quantities 
directly  from  the  places  of  production,  stored  it  in  the 
municipal  salt  warehouses,  and  after  a  monopolistic  ad- 
vance of  its  price  gave  it  out  to  be  disposed  of  by  peddler 
and  saltman,  who  paid  a  fee  for  the  privilege.    Usually  the 
foreign  wholesale  dealers"  were  permitted  to  sell  their 

"In  Jhb.  f.  Nat.-6k.  u.  Stat.,  3  F-  XX  (1900).  pp.  i  ff.,  G.  v.  Below 
attempts  to  prove  that  in  the  Middle  Ages  there  existed  no  class  ot 


126 


THE  RISE   OF  Ny4TION/4L   ECONOMY. 


ft         'a 


!!' 


1-1 


wares  only  in  large  lots  or  in  minimum  quantities — in  the 
case  of  spices,  for  example,  not  under  1 2^  pounds.  The  local 
retailers  and  peddlers  then  carried  on  the  sale  in  detail. 
This  also  holds  good  for  many  large  producers,  as,  for 
instance,  hammersmiths,  who  might  sell  o  founders  the 
iron  they  had  failed  to  persuade  smith-j  and  private  indi- 
viduals to  buy. 

Though  the  limits  of  the  territory  from  which  the  mar- 
ket of  a  mediaeval  town  drew  its  supplies  and  to  which  its 
sales  were  made  cannot  be  determined  with  precision,  see- 
ing that  they  varied  for  different  wares,  yet  from  the  eco- 
nom.ic  point  of  view  they  formed  none  the  less  an  inde- 
pendent region.  Each  town  with  its  surrounding  country 
constituted  an  autonomous  economic  unit  within  which  its 
whole  course  of  economic  Hfe  was  on  an  independent  foot- 
ing. This  independence  is  based  upon  special  currency, 
and  special  weights  and  measures  for  each  locality.  The 
relation  between  town  and  country  is  as  a  matter  of  fact 
a  compulsory  relation  such  as  that  between  the  head  and 
the  limbs  of  the  body,  and  it  displays  strong  tendencies  to 
assume  the  forms  of  legalized  compulsion.  The  extra- 
mural jurisdiction  of  the  town,  the  prohibitions  of  export 
and  import  already  met  with,  the  differential  tolls,  and  the 
direct  acquisition  of  territory  on  the  part  of  the  large  towns 
plainly  point  in  that  direction. 

Many  as  are  the  objections  which  may  be  urged  against 
deducing  the  constitution  of  the  town  from  that  of  the 
manor,  the  economic  system  of  the  town  can  be  properly 

wholesale  merchants,  and  that  the  characteristic  feature  of  those  times 
was  for  wholesale  and  reUil  trade  to  be  carried  on  by  the  same  person. 
He  therefore  takes  exception  to  our  use  of  the  term  wholesale  mer- 
chant. I  cannot,  however,  see  why  when  these  persons  appeared  as 
wholesalers  they  should  not  receive  the  name,  particularly  as  there  is 
no  evidersce  to  show  that  wholesale  merchants  were  ever  met  with  who 
were  not  at  the  same  time  retail  traders. 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


ia7 


'% 


understood  and  explained  only  as  a  continuation  of  the 
manorial  system.  What  existed  in  the  latter  ia  mere 
germs  and  beginnings  grew  into  finished  organisms  and 
systems  of  organisms;  factors  that  under  the  independent 
household  economy  were  found  grouped  in  primitive 
shapelessness,  have  now  been  differentiated  by  subdivision 
and  made  independent.  The  forced  division  of  labour  of 
the  manor  has  broadened  into  a  free  division  of  production 
between  peasants  and  burghers,  displaying  morever 
among  the  latter  a  varied  multiplicity  of  separate  trades. 
The  manorial  workman  carrying  on  domestic  labour  has 
become  the  wage-earning  craftsman,  who  in  time  comes 
to  possess  his  own  business  capital  in  addition  to  his  tools. 
The  vital  thread  connecting  manorial  and  cottier  economy 
has  at  length  been  severed;  the  separate  household  estab- 
lishments have  gained  an  independent  existence;  trade 
between  them  is  no  longer  conducted  on  the  basis  of  a  gen- 
eral return,  but  on  the  basis  of  a  specific  payment  for  ser- 
vices given  and  received.  To  be  sure  they  have  not  yet 
fully  emancipated  themselves  from  the  soil,  even  in  the 
town;  production  is  still  dependent  in  large  measure  upon 
the  domestic  husbandry;  but  there  have  been  formed  the 
distinct  vocations  of  agriculturalist,  artisan,  and  trades- 
Uian  which  have  given  a  specific  direction  to  the  activities 
and  lives  of  those  following  them.  Society  has  become 
differentiated;  classes  now  exist;  and  these  were  unknown 
before. 

The  whole  circle  of  economic  Jife  has_gained  in  fulness 
and  variety  in  comparison  with  the  independent  domestic 
economy;  the  membership  of  the  separate  household  es- 
taMshments  has  become  smaller;  the  individuals  are  inter- 
dependent ;  they  undertake  certain  functions  for  each 
other;  exchange  value  is  already  forcing  its  way  as  a  leter- 
mining  factor  into  their  inner  life.  But  the  producingjrom- 


128 


TH'z   RISE  OF  NATIONAL   ECONOMY, 


i 


^1 


I 


.tflllm  I 


it 


!i 


.i 


munity  still  coincules  with  the  consuming  community;  the 
handicraftsman's  assistants  drawn  from  outside,  and  even 
the  tradesmen,  are  meml)ers  of  their  employer's  house- 
hold, subject  to  his  disciplinary  control.  He  is  their  "  mas- 
ter," they  are  his  "  servants." 

And  still,  as  ever,  by  far  the  greater  proportion  of  com- 
modities does  not  pass  beyond  the  lintels  of  the  place  of 
production.  A  small  part  finds  its  way  l)y  the  process  of 
exchange  into  other  establishments,  but  the  way  travelled 
is  a  very  short  one.  namely,  from  producer  to  consumer. 
There  is  no  circulation  of  goods.  The  sole  exceptions  are 
the  articles  of  foreign  trade  few  in  number,  and  of  the 
petty  retail  trade.  They  alone  became  wares.  They  alone 
must  frequently  take  on  the  form  of  money  before  reach- 
ing their  domestic  destination.  But  here  we  deal  with  an 
exception  to  the  system  of  direct  exchange,  not  with  a  con- 
stituent element  of  the  whole  economic  order. 

Jhough  at  this  early  point  there  is  a  social  division 
of  labour,  and  also  an  interrc'.ationship  of  rades.  there  are 
as  yeTneitTier  fixed  Industrial  undertakings  nor  the  neces- 
sary industrial  capital.  At  most  wt  are  justified  in  speak- 
ing of  trade  capital.  Handicraft  undertakes  work,  but  it 
is  no  business  undertaking.  In  the  form?  of  itinerant 
handicraft  and  home  work  it  almo^^t  totally  acks  capital. 
It  means  wage-labour  embodied  in  t:-€  material  of  another. 
Even  where  the  craftsman  works  w-'h  iis  nvr  :ools  the 
product  does  not  increase  m  value  -rrwr  :^tt>  c  nftant  in- 
corporation of  fresh  increme  nts  of  -ztxzi^  nn  :v  m:  the  fact 
that  labour  is  being  inve-tcu  in  it. 

The  amount  of  loar  .ivA  c-nstnnrrnjon  -trsxtsi  -^  also  ex- 
ceedingly small.  It  ma;  ve-  m  dmsnf"  -E-T^^ner  in  medi- 
jeval  trade  credit  open.Tiosi-  :ui:  »e  ^^t^Hve-  of  at  all. 
Early  exchange  is  base(     ip»^  ^eat:^-  TE^-menr     nothing  is 

given    except    \MiCrC   a    ;-    U=::— :    =rxz;-^  .  i:r-_    -         -» 1» 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


129 


received.     Almost  the  entire  credit  system  is  clothed  in 
the  forms  of  purchase.    This  was  the  case  with  the  heredi- 
tary peasant  holding  and  with  the  giving  of  town  building- 
sites  in  return  for  a  ground-rent,  in  which  instances  the 
land  was  looked  upon  as  the  purchase-price  for  the  right 
to  levy  rent.-"    So  it  was  also  under  the  earlier  law  where 
the  land  placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  money-lender  passes 
as  a  temporary  equivalent  into  the  keeping  of  the  "  cred- 
itor "  and  becomes  his  property  if  the  debtor  fails  to  repay 
the  loan.     Economically  considered,  this  commercial  act 
dififers  in  no  way  from  selling  in  order  to  buy  again;   and 
it  is  admitted  that  it  is  now  >carcely  possible  to  discover  a 
legal  distinction  between  theitwo.     A  similar  character  is 
borne  by  tl.''  most  common  of  urban  credit  transactions, 
the  purchase  of  rents  or  stocks,-"  as  the  name  itself  indi- 
cates.    The  price  is  the  capital  loaned;    the  commodity 
exchanged  is  the  right  to  draw  a  yearly  rent,  which  the 
borrower  on  the  security  of  a  house  transfers  in  such  a 
manner  that  the  owner  for  the  time  being  receives  the  rent. 
The  rent  is  of  the  nature  of  a  charge  up<  r,  the  soil,  and  is 
for  a  long  time  incapable  of  release;    the  party  responsi- 
ble answers  for  it  with  the  house  or  land  upon  which  it  is 
fixed,  but  not  with  his  other  assets.     It  is  thus  a  charge 
only  upon  the  real  properly  that  carries  it,  whose  rcntabil- 
ity'it  proportionately  diminishes.    The  person  entitled  to 
the  rent  has  absolutely  resigned  the  purchase-price  paid; 
the  document  conferring  the  right  to  draw  the  rent  can 
be  transferred  without  formality,  just  as  a  bill  payable  to 
bearer.     Every   personal   relationship  is  thus  eliminated 
from  the  wdiole  transaction,  which  lacks  that  element  of 

"  Compare  in  connection  with  this  whole  section  the  luminous  ex- 
planation by  A.  Heusler,  Instituiionen  d.  deutsch.  Privatrechls,  II,  pp. 

128  ff. 
"Rcntcnkauf  and  Giiltkr.uf. 


13° 


THE  RISE  OF  NAT!ONAL  ECONOMY. 


m 


trust  peculiar  to  credit.  The  right  of  redemption  bears 
the  same  character;  it  is  the  sale  of  the  rent  under  reserva- 
tion of  the  privilege  of  re-purchase. 

As  in  dealings  in  real  property,  so  also  with  mov- 
ables, the  credit  transaction  is  but  a  variation  of  ready  pay- 
ment. The  security,  as  Heusler  says,  is  a  provisional 
transfer  on  the  part  of  the  debtor  of  an  equivalent  that  is 
still  redeemable  (forfeitable  security),  not  a  covering  of  the 
debt,  which  may  eventually  be  claimed  by  the  creditor  and 
realized  upon  by  being  converted  into  money  (saleable 
security).  The  pawnbroking  business  of  the  Jews  •**  is  in 
fact  similar  to  our  modern  sale  with  right  of  redemption, 
and  the  "  goods  credit "  extended  to-day  by  craftsmen 
and  shopkeepers,  takes  in  the  Middle  Ages  the  form  of 
purchase  on  security."  If  at  the  same  time  we  con- 
sider that  when  personal  credit  was  given  in  those  times 
the  debtor  almost  always  had  to  agree  to  submit  to  the 
creditor's  right  of  security;  that  in  most  instances  he 
could  get  money  only  by  furnishing  the  best  security  un- 
der pledges  to  the  lender  and  similar  burdensome  condi- 
tions; that  the  creditor  in  addition  reserved  the  right,  in 
case  of  default,  to  obtain  the  money  from  Jews  at  the  debt- 
or's expense;  and  that  the  fellow  citizens  or  heirs  of  the 
foreign  debtor  could  be  distrained  upon  for  the  amount  of 
his  debt, — we  see  plainly  that  in  the  town  economy  of  the 
Middle  Ages  a  credit  syrtem  in  the  modem  sense  cannot 
be  spoken  of.'* 

•■  Comp.  my  Bev'nlkerung  von  Frankfurt,  I,  pp.  573  ff- 
"  Comp.  the  interesting  examples  in  Stieda.  as  cited  above,  p.  104. 
"  A  striking  resemblance  to  the  mediaeval  credit  system  is  offered 
by  the  Greek  system  and  its  legal  forms.  Here  likewise  purchase  and 
loan  are  largely  synonymous  terms,  and  the  language  has  not  arrived 
at  the  stage  of  distinguishing  sharply  the  notions  of  buying,  pledging, 
renting,  and  subjecting  to  conditions.  The  Greek  mortgage  laws 
coincide  in  all  important  points  with  the  early  German.    Comp.  K.  F. 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


131 


^1 
1 


There  are  two  things  in  connection  with  this  that  must 
appear  especially  strange  to  a  student  of  modem  political 
economy,  namely,  the  frequency  with  which  immaterial 
things  (relationships)  become  economic  commodities  and 
subjects  of  exchange,  and  their  treatment  under  commer- 
cial law  as  real  property.    These  show  clearly  how  primi- 
tive exchange  sought  to  enlarge  the  sphere  denied  it  un- 
der the  existing  conditions  of  production  by  awkwardly 
transforming,  into  negotiable  property,  almost  everything 
it  could  lay  hold  upon,  and  thus  extending  infinitely  the 
domain  of  private  law.    What  an  endless  variety  of  things 
in  mediaeval  times  were  lent,  bestowed,  sold,  and  pawned! 
— the  sovereign  power  over  territories  and  towns;  county 
and  bailiff's  rip^hts;  jun&uiction  over  hundreds  and  can- 
tons; church  dignities  and  patronages;  suburban  monoi>- 
oly  rights;  ferry  and  road  privileges;  prerogatives  of  mint- 
age and  toll,  of  hunting  and  fishing;  wood-cutting  rights, 
tithes,  statute  labour,  ground-rents,  and  revenues;  in  fact 
charges  of  ever>'  kind  falling  upon  the  land.     Economi- 
cally considered,  all  these  rights  and  "relationships"  share 
with  land  the  peculiarity  that  they  cannot  be  removed 
from  the  place  where  they  are  enjoyed,  and  that  t^ey  can- 
not be  multiplied  at  will. 

Income  and  wealth  are  at  this  stage  not  yet  clearly  distin- 
guished from  each  other.  When  in  Basel  in  the  year  145 1 
the  "  new  pound-toll  "  was  introduced  it  was  prescribed 
that  it  should  be  paid:  (i)  from  the  selling-price  of  wares, 

(2)  from  the  capital  invested  in  the  purchase  of  rents,  and 

(3)  from  the  amount  of  rents  received.'"    On  every  pound 

Hermann.  Lchrbuch  dcr  gritch.  Privalaltcriumer  mil  Rinschluss  der  Rechls- 
altcrhnncr,  »  67  and  (rt<.  The  old  Roman  fiducia  and  its  later  form  as 
tignus  may  be  mentioned  for  purpose  of  comparison. 

Comp.  Schonbere,  Finansrtrhdltnisst  d.  Stadt  Basel  im  XIV.  und 
A  J- .  JHdt.,  p.  367. 


13a  THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 

four  pfennigs  were  to  be  paid,  no  matter  whether  the  com- 
modity had  changed  hands  as  purchase-money,  as  capital, 
or  as  interest.  In  the  first  instance  we  have  to  do,  accord- 
ing to  our  terminology,  with  gross  revenue,  in  the  second 
with  property,  in  the  third  with  net  income;  and  yet  all 
three  cases  are  treated  alike.  Similar  examples  might  be 
adduced  from  the  tax-regulations  of  other  cities." 

Two  of  our  modern  classes  of  income,  however,  now 
come  more  clearly  into  view,  namely,  ground-rent  and 
wages.    The  latter  bears,  to  be  sure,  a  peculiar  character; 
it  is  handicraft-wage,  compensation  for  the  use  of  the 
craftsman's  labour  on  behalf  of  the  consumer,  and  not,  as 
to-day,  the  price  paid  to  the  wage-worker  by  the  en- 
trepreneur.   Still  this  price  already  exists  in  germ  in  the 
slight  money-wage  that  the  artisan  gives  to  his  journey- 
man in  addition  to  free  maintenance,  thus  enabling  the 
latter  to  supply  independently  a  limited  proportion  of  his 
wants.      Earnings   of   management    appear   only   in    the 
sphere  of  trade,  and  thus,  like  it,  are  the  exception;  more- 
over through  connection  with  transportation  they  are 
more  coloured  by  elements  of  labour-wage  than  are  the 
earnings  from  trade  to-day.     As  a  rule  interest   takes 
on  the  form  of  ground-rent;  and  the  same  is  true  of  the 
many  kinds  of  revenues  arising  from  the  juridical  rela- 
tionships that   enter  into  trade.     As  credit   operations 
usually  take  the  form  of  purchase,  they  almost  always 
mean  for  the  creditor  the  actual  transfer  of  a  portion  of 
his  property,  in  order  that  he  may  receive  a  yearly  income 
or  a  continuous  usufruct.    This  is  a  rule,  for  example,  of 
enfeoffment;  with  mortgaged  property,  according  to  the 
early  law.  it  involved  the  transfer  of  the  natural  yield  of 

-  For  details  see  my  paper  on  two  medixval  tax-regulations.  Klcinert 
Bdtriigf  z.  Gfschich.  von  Doccnitn  d.  Uipsiger  HochschuU.  Ftstscknft  --. 
('■ill.  Hislorikertage  (Leipzig.  i8o4>.  PP-  >^3ff. 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


»33 


the  land,  and  with  rent-purchases,  of  the  ground-rent  or 
rent.  On  this  basis  arose  the  earliest  type  of  personal  in- 
surance and  at  the  same  time  the  chief  form  of  public 
credit:  the  negotiating  of  annuities. 

Public  economy  is  still  mainly  of  a  private  character: 
revenues  from  domains,  sovereign  prerogatives,  tithes, 
statute  labour,  services,  ground-rents,  and  fees  preponder- 
ate in  the  State,  market  revenues  and  imports  on  con- 
sumption in  the  towns.  The  general  property-tax  con- 
tinues to  be  the  only  direct  tax,  and  mingled  with  it  here 
and  there  are  elements  of  an  income-tax.  It  is  indeed 
levied  more  frequently  than  in  the  preceding  period,  but 
-.till  it  is  not  regular. 

In  Germany  the  economic  supremacy  of  the  towns  over 
the  surrounding  country  blossomed  only  in  a  few  places 
into  political  sovereignty.  In  Italy  a  parallel  development 
led  to  the  formation  of  a  tyranny  of  the  cities;  in  France 
the  beginnings  of  autonomy  on  the  part  of  free  municipal 
communities  were  early  suppressed  by  the  kings  with  the 
aid  of  the  feudal  nobility.  The  reason  is  that  in  Germany, 
as  in  France,  everything  that  lay  without  the  town  wall 
was  overlaid  with  a  mass  of  feudal  institutions.  True  the 
great  landed  proprietors  had  long  since  given  up  the  per- 
sonal management  of  their  manorial  estates. — which  be- 
came for  the  owner,  just  as  the  town  land  and  house  prop- 
erty for  the  patrician  families,  nothing  more  than  a  source 
of  income.  But  their  original  economic  power  had  now  be- 
come political,  the  landed  proprietors  were  now  territorial 
princes,  and  in  the  course  of  this  transformation  there  had 
arisen  a  new  and  widely  ramified  class  of  small  titled  pro- 
prietors whose  interests,  purely  agrarian  in  character,  were 
closely  linked  to  those  uf  the  princes.  Henc  that  keen 
struffgle  in  Germany  between  burj^her  and  n    )!e  whicl; 


»34 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


■  m 

1 


fills  the  closing  centuries  of  the  Middle  Ages,  and  in  which 
the  towns  maintain  the  political  autonomy  they  had  for 
the  most  part  acquired  from  their  lords  by  purchase  and 
unredeemed  pleilges,  though  they  fail  to  wrest  the  peasant 
clabs  from  the  feudal  powers. 

It  can  thus  be  said  that  the  economic  development  of  the 
towns  in  Germany  and  France  remained  incomplete;  and 
that  they  did  not  accomplish  what  the  most  vigorous 
types  of  the  period  of  autonomous  household  economy  had 
actually  achieved,  namely,  the  transmuting  of  their  eco- 
nomic power  into  political  indepei'ui-nce.  This  was 
perhaps  fortunate  for  us.  In  Italy  the  wealth  of  the 
cities  expropriated  in  all  directions  the  possessions  of  the 
peasant,  and  down  to  the  present  has  continued  to  exploit 
him  as  a  wretched  metayer.  In  Germany  the  nobility  were, 
indeed,  able  to  make  of  him  a  feudatorj-;  but  the  con- 
ception of  nationality,  which  first  came  to  life  in  the  terri- 
torial sovereignties,  served  to  prevent  his  proletarization. 

The  final  development  of  national  economy  is  in  its  es- 
sence a  fruit  of  the  political  centralization  that  begins  at 
the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages  with  the  rise  of  territorial 
state  organizations,  and  now  finds  its  completion  in  the 
creation  of  the  unified  national  State.  Economic  unifica- 
tion of  forces  goes  hand  in  hand  with  the  bowing  of  private 
political  interests  to  the  higher  aims  of  the  nation  as  a 

whole. 

In  Germany  it  is  the  more  powerful  territorial  prtnces, 
as  opposed  to  the  rural  nobles  and  the  towns,  who  seek 
to  realize  the  modern  national  idea,  often  certainly  under 
j;rcat  diffictilties.  especially  when  their  territories  were 
widely  scattered.  From  the  second  half  of  the  fifteenth 
century  we  have  many  indications  of  a  closer  economic 
union,  such  as  the  cre.ition  of  a  territorial  currency  in 
place  of  the  numerous  town  currencies,  the  issue  of  tcrri- 


THE  RISE  OF  N/ITION/fL  ECONOMY. 


1 35 


torial  regulations  regarding  trade,  markets,  industry,  for- 
estry, mining,  hunting,  and  fishing,  the  gradual  formation 
of  a  system  of  sovereign  prerogatives  and  concessions,  the 
promulgation  of  territorial  laws,  conducive  to  greater  legal 
unity,  and  the  emergence  of  an  ordered  public  economy. 

But  for  centuries  longer  agricultural  interests  predom- 
inate in  Germany,  and  as  against  them  the  exertions  of  the 
imperial  power  in  the  direction  of  a  national  economic 
policy  lamentably  failed.  On  the  other  hand  the  Western 
European  states, — Spain,  Portugal,  England,  France,  and 
the  Netherlands, — from  the  sixteenth  century  on  appear 
externally  as  economic  units,  developing  a  vigorous  colo- 
nial policy  in  order  to  turn  to  account  the  rich  resources  of 
their  newly  acquired  possessions  over  sea. 

In  all  these  lands,  though  with  varying  degrees  of  se- 
verity, appears  the  struggle  with  the  independent  powers 
of  the  Middle  Ages, — the  greater  nobility,  the  towns,  the 
provinces,  the  religious  and  secular  corporations.  The 
immediate  question,  to  be  sure,  was  the  annihilation  of  the 
independent  territorial  circles  which  blocked  the  way  to 
political  unification.  Put  deep  down  beneath  the  move- 
ment leading  to  the  development  of  princely  absolutism, 
slumbers  the  universal  idea  that  the  greater  tasks  con- 
fronting modern  civilization  demanded  an  organized  union 
of  whole  peoples,  a  grand  living  community  of  interests; 
and  this  could  arise  only  upon  the  basis  of  common  eco- 
nomic action.  Each  portion  of  the  country,  each  section 
of  the  population,  must  in  the  service  of  the  whole  take 
over  those  duties  that  its  natural  endowments  best  fitted 
it  to  perform.  A  comprehensive  partitioning  of  functions 
was  necessary,  a  division  into  callings  embracing  the  whole 
population;  and  this  division  itself  presupposed  a  highly 
developed  commerce  and  an  active  interchange  of  goods 
amongst  the  population.    If  the  sole  aim  of  all  economic 


136 


THE  RISE  OF  NATION /I  L  ECONOMY. 


I     ! 


Ill 


effort  was  in  ancient  times  to  make  the  house  autonomous 
in  the  satisfaction  of  its  wants,  and  in  later  mediaeval  times 
to  supply  the  needs  of  the  town,  there  now  comes  into 
being  an  exceedingly  complex  and  ingenious  system  for 
meeting  the  wants  of  the  entire  nation. 

The  carrying  out  of  this  system  is  from  the  sixteenth  to 
the  eighteenth  century  the  economic  effort  of  all  the  ad- 
vanced European  states.  The  measures  employed  to  at- 
tain this  object  are  modelled  in  almost  every  detail  upon 
the  economic  policy  of  the  mediaeval  towns.^*  They  are 
generally  summed  up  under  the  name  of  the  mercantile 
system.  This  latter  has  long  been  regarded  as  a  theoretical 
edifice  culminating  in  the  principle  that  the  wealth  of  a 
country  consists  in  the  amount  of  coin  within  its  borders. 
To-day,  in  all  probability,  this  conception  is  universally 
abandoned.  Mercantilism  is  no  dead  dogma,  but  the 
active  practice  of  all  leading  statesmen  from  Charles  V. 
to  Frederick  the  Great.  It  found  its  typical  development 
in  the  economic  policy  of  Colbert.  He  sought  the  removal 
or  reduction  of  the  internal  customs  and  tolls,  the  intro- 
duction of  a  unified  customs  system  on  the  national  bor- 
ders; the  assuring  to  the  country  of  a  supply  of  the  neces- 
sary raw  materials  and  means  of  sustenance  by  hindrances 
to  export,  and  the  institution  of  the  forest  regalia.  He 
fostered  industry  on  a  large  scale  by  the  establishment  of 
new  industrial  branches  with  state  support  and  technical 
supervision,  by  the  exclusion  of  foreign  competition 
through  prohibitive  tariffs,  and  by  the  building  of  roads, 
canals,  and  harbours.  With  the  same  end  in  view  he  strove 
to  unify  the  system  of  weights  and  measures,  and  to  regu- 
late commercial  law  and  the   commercial  news-service. 

•*  For  the  German  states  this  development  is  excellently  portrayed 
by  Schmoller  in  the  Jhb.  f.  Gesetzgeb.  Verw.  u.  Volksw.  VIII  (1884). 

pp.  22  a. 


THE  RISE  OF  N/fTlONML  ECONOMY. 


137 


The  cultivation  of  the  technical  arts,  fine  arts,  and  science 
in  special  state  institutions;  the  systematizing  of  state  and 
communal  expenditure,  the  removal  of  inequalities  in  taxa- 
tion, also  served  his  one  purpose — to  create  an  independent 
national  economy  which  should  satisfy  all  the  needs  of  the  citi- 
zens of  France  by  national  labour,  and  by  an  active  internal 
trade  bring  all  the  natural  resources  of  the  country  and  all 
the  separate  forces  of  the  people  into  the  service  of  the 
whole.  In  considering  the  special  encouragement  given 
by  "  Colbertism  "  to  foreign  commerce,  the  marine,  and 
colonial  trade,  it  has  all  too  often  been  overlooked  that 
these  measures  also  strengthened  the  inner  resources  of 
the  country,  and  that  the  theory  of  the  balance  of  trade 
became  a  necessity  at  a  time  when  the  transition  from 
the  still  predominant  household  production  to  the  system 
of  universal  exchange  indispensably  postulated  the  in- 
crease of  the  monetary  medium  of  circulation. 

Along  with  the  state  measures  we  must  not  fail  to  take 
account  of  the  social  forces  working  in  the  same  direction. 
These  naturally  had  their  starting-point  in  the  towns. 
Here,  by  a  gradual  process  of  transformation,  'waning  at 
interest  had  been  evolved  from  the  purchase  o!  rents;  and 
thus  in  the  course  of  the  sixteenth  century  a  true  credit 
system  arose.  In  this  we  may  see  the  influence  of  whole- 
sale trade,  which  first  discovered  the  secret  of  making 
money  with  money.  Through  the  liberation  of  capi- 
tal invested  in  rents  tlic  wealth  of  the  rich  townsmen 
acquired  a  greatly  increased  mobility  and  accumulative 
power.  Loan  capital  now  took  its  place  at  the  side  of 
trade  capital,  hitherto  the  only  kind  of  capital;  and  the 
two  supplemented  and  supported  each  other  in  their  fur- 
ther development. 

The  immediate  result  was  a  notablejexpansion  p£ tra4e^ 
Certain  towns  began  to  rear  their  heads  above  the  uniform 


)  f] 


X38 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


mass  of  mediaeval  market  and  handicraft  towns  as  centres 
of  state  administration  or  as  emporiums  of  trade.    In  Ger- 
many, which  through  the  decline  of  the  Hansa  and  the 
change  in  the  highways  of  the  world's  trade,  had  lost  most 
of  its  importance  as  an  intermediary  of  trade  with  the 
North,  the  change  manifests  itself  to  some  extent  in  the 
growmg  importance  of  the  great  fairs,  and  in  the  decad- 
ence of  the  local  markets.    The  Frankfurt  fair  reached  its 
zenith  in  the  sixteenth  century,  that  of  Leipzig  consider- 
ably later.     But  soon  trade  capital  is  no  longer  content 
with  the  importation  and  handling  of  foreign  products; 
it  becomes,  for  native  industry  and  the  surplus  products 
of  the   peasant's   domestic  labour,   commission   capital. 
Wholesale  production  with  division  of  labour  in  manu- 
factories and  factories  comes  into  life,  and  with  it  the 
wage-earning  class.     In  place  of  the  mediaeval  exchange 
bank  there  is  developed  first  the  bank  of  deposit  and  cir- 
culation, then  the  modern  credit  bank.    The  transport  of 
goods,  which  earlier  was  an  integral  part  of  trade,  now 
becomes  independent.    The  state  posts,  newspapers,  and 
the  national  marine  arise,  and  the  insurance  system  is  de- 
veloped.   On  all  sides  are  new  organizations  whose  pur- 
pose is  to  satisfy  wide-spread  economic  wants;  a  national 
industry,  a  national  market,  national  commercial  institu- 
tions,—everywhere  the  capitalistic  principle  of  business 

enterprise  in  trade. 

Everybody  knows  how  the  absolutist  State  furthered 
this  movement,  ai  d  how  not  infrequently  in  the  effort  to 
accelerate  it  it  gave  an  artificial  existence  to  what  would 
not  flourish  of  its  own  strength.  Nevertheless,  though 
limited  in  manifold  ways  by  state  legislation,  the  old  eco- 
nomic organization  of  the  towns  with  its  guild  and  monop- 
oly privileges  and  the  sharp  separation  of  town  and 
country,  persisted  on  until  about  the  end  of  the  eighteenth 


i« 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


139 


'^ 


century,  heedless  of  the  new  economic  life  springing  up 
roundabout  and  of  the  variety  of  new  commercial  forms 
which  it  had  nurtured.    When  the  Physiocrats  and  Adam 
Smith  made  these  latter  for  the  first  time  the  subject  of 
scientific  observation,  they  entirely  overlooked  the  ob- 
vious fact  that  they  were  not  dealing  with  a  spontaneous 
product  of  mere  social  activity,  but  with  a  fruit  of  the 
paternal  government  of  the  State.     The  barriers  whose 
removal  they  demanded  were  either  the  fossilized  survivals 
of  earlier  economic  epochs,  such  as  charges  upon  the  soil, 
guilds,  local  coercive  rights,  restrictions  on  freedom  of  mi- 
gration; or  they  were  devices  of  mercantilism  for  assisting 
production,   such   as   monopolies   and   privileges,   which 
might  cease  to  operate  after  having  fulfilled  their  purpose. 
As  far  as  the  development  of  national  economy  is  con- 
cerned, the  liberalism  of  the  last  hundred  years  has  only 
continued  what  absolutism  began.    Expressed  in  this  way, 
the  assertion  may  easily  seem  paradoxical.    For  liberalism, 
outwardly  considered,  has  only  demolished;   it  has  over- 
thrown the  antiquated  forms  upon  which  household  and 
town  economy  were  founded,  and  constructed  nothing 
new.     It  has  destroyed  the  special  position  and  special 
privileges  of  individual  territorial  districts  and  individual 
social  groups,  and  in  their  stead  established  free  competi- 
tion and  equality  before  the  law.    But  though  it  has  thus 
decomposed  into  its  elements  the  heritage  of  the  past,  it 
has  at  the  same  time  cleared  the  way  for  new  economic 
combinations  of  a  truly  national  character,  and  made  it 
possible  for  every  energy,  according  to  the  technical  devel- 
opment of  the  time,  to  enter  into  the  service  of  the  whole 
at  the  point  where  it  is  of  the  greatest  usefulness. 

If  liberalism  has  made  the  progress  of  national  economy 
absolutely  contingent  upon  social  freedom  of  action,  and 
thus    taken   an   attitude   in    many    respects    hostile    to 


I40 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


v.^ii 


the  State,  it  has  nevertheless  failed  to  prevent  the  modern 
State,  as  such,  from  pursuing  the  path  chosen  by  it  as  early 
as  the  sixteenth  century,  and  leading  to  an  ever-closer 
union  of  all  sections  of  the  people  and  of  the  national  ter- 
ritory for  the  accomplishment  of  the  steadily  expanding 
tasks'  of  civilization.  All  the  great  statesmen  of  the  last 
three  centuries,  from  Cromwell  and  Colbert  to  Cavour  and 
Bismarck,  have  worked  towards  this  end.  The  French 
Revolution  has  been  no  less  centralizing  in  its  effects  than 
the  political  upheavals  of  recent  decades.  In  the  latest 
phase  of  this  evolution  the  principle  of  nationality  has  be- 
come a  principle  of  mighty  unifying  power.  The  small 
separate  States  of  earlier  times  were  no  longer  equal  to 
the  comprehensive  economic  tasks  of  the  present.  They 
had  either  to  disappear  in  one  large  national  State,  as  in 
Italy,  or  surrender  considerable  portions  of  their  inde- 
pendence, especially  in  economic  legislation,  to  a  federal 
State,  as  did  the  individual  States  in  the  German  Empire, 
and  the  cantons  in  Switzerland. 

We  err,  if  we  imagine  ourselves  justified  in  concluding 
1  from  the  extent  to  which  international -trade,  has  been 
facilitated  during  the  epoch  of  liberalism  that  the  period 
of  national  economy  is  on  the  decline  and  is  giving  place 
to  the  period  of  world-econonix.  The  very  latest  political 
development  of  the  States  of  Europe  has  resulted  in  a 
return  to  the  ideas  of  mercantilism  and,  to  a  certain  extent, 
of  the  old  town  economy.  The  revival  of  protective  duties, 
the  retention  of  national  currency  and  of  national  labour 
legislation,  the  public  ownership  of  the  machinery  of  trans- 
portation already  achieved  or  still  aimed  at,  the  national 
control  of  workman's  insurance  and  of  the  banking  sys- 
tem, the  growing  activity  of  the  State  in  economic  matters 
generallv.— all  this  indicates  that  we  have  passed  the  ab- 
solutist and  liberalist  periods  and  entered  upon  a  third 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY.  141 

period  of  national  economy.  Socially  this  period  bears  a 
peculiar  aspect.  It  is  no  longer  merely  a  question  of  meet- 
ing national  wants  as  independently  and  completely  as 
possible  by  national  production,  but  a  question  of  the  just 
distribution  of  goods,  of  the  direct  action  of  the  State  in 
the  economic  interests  of  the  whole,  and  for  the  purpose 
of  securing  to  all  its  subjects  according  to  their  economic 
services  a  share  in  the  benefits  of  civilization.  The  requi- 
site measures  can  be  carried  out  only  on  a  grand  scale; 
they  demand  an  intimate  union  of  all  individual  forces,' 
such  as  a  great  national  State  alone  can  furnish. 

With  this  we  might  fittingly  close.  For  to  present  here 
the  multitude  of  new  phenomena  springing  up  under  the 
touch  of  national  as  opposed  to  household  and  town  econ- 
omy one  would  need  to  reproduce  almost  the  whole  con- 
tents of  a  text-book  on  political  economy.  It  will  never- 
theless contribute  to  a  better  understanding  of  the  subject 
if,  by  a  comparison  of  some  of  the  leading  phenomena  we 
concisely  review  the  fundamental  features  of  the  whole  in 
the  three  stages  of  its  development. 

The  most  prominent  of  these  features  is,  that  in  the 
course  of  history  mankind  sets  before  itself  ever  higher 
economic  aims  and  finds  the  means  of  attaining  these  in  a 
division  of  the  burden  of  labour,  which  constantly  extends 
until  finally  it  embraces  the  whole  people  and  requires  the 
services  of  all  for  all.  This  cooperation  is  based,  in  the 
*^^51^L!!P-"!?1^°1^^  economy,  upon  blood-relationship,  of 
town  economy  upon  contiguity,  and  of  national  economy 
upon  nationality.  It  is  the  road  traversed  by  mankind  in 
passing  from  clanship  to  society,  which,  as  far  as  we 
can  see,  ends  in  an  ever-ti,q:htening  social  organization.  On 
this  road  the  means  for  satisfying  the  wants  of  the  indi- 
vidual continually  grow  in  fulness  and  variety,  and  at  the 
same  time  in  dependence  and  complexity.     The  life  and 


142 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


labour  of  every  individual  becomes  more  and  more  en- 
twined with  the  Hfe  and  labour  of  many  others. 

At  the  stage  of  household  economy  every  commodity  is 
consumed  in  the  place  of  its  origin;  at  the  stage  of  town 
economy  it  passes  immediately  from  the  producer  to  the 
consumer;  at  the  stage  of  national  economy,  both  in  its 
production  and  thereafter,  it  passes  through  various  hands 

it  circulates.     In  the  course  of  the  whole  evolution  the 

distance  between  production  and  consumption  increases. 
At  the  first  stage  all  commodities  are  consumption  goods; 
at  the  second  part  of  them  become  articles  of  exchange; 
at  the  third  most  of  then^  are  wares. 

The  individual  household  at  the  first  stage  is  a  producing 
and  consuming  community  in  one;  at  the  stage  of  town 
economy  this  state  of  things  continues  in  so  far  as  the 
journeyman  craftsman  and  the  peasant  workman  make 
part  of  the  household  of  the  person  employing  them;  in 
national  economy  community  in  production  and  com- 
munity in  consumption  become  distinct.  The  former  is  a 
business  undertaking  from  whose  returns  as  a  rule  several 
independent  households  are  supported. 

When  outside  labour  is  necessary,  it  is  at  the  first  stage 
in  a  permanent  relation  of  subjection  to  the  producer  (as 
slaves  and  serfs),  at  the  second  in  one  of  service,  and  at  the 
third  the  relationship  is  contractual.  Under  the  inde- 
pendent household  system  the  consumer  is  either  himself 
a  labourer,  or  the  owner  of  the  labourer;  in  town  economy 
he  makes  a  direct  purchase  of  the  workman's  labour 
(wage-work),  or  of  the  product  of  his  labour  (handicraft); 
in  national  economy  he  ceases  to  stand  in  any  relation  to 
the  labourer,  and  purchaser  his  goods  from  the  entrepre- 
neur or  merchant,  by  whom  the  labourer  is  paid. 

As  for  money,  it  is  in  independent  domestic  economy 
either  entirely  absent,  or  an  article  of  direct  use  and  a 


THE  RISE  OF  NATION /tL  ECONOMY. 


M3 


means  for  storing  up  wealth.  In  town  economy  it  is  es- 
sentially a  medium  of  exchange;  in  national  economy  it 
becomes  a  means  of  circulation  and  of  profit-making  as 
well.  The  three  categories,  payment  in  kind,  money  pay- 
ment Hnd  payment  based  upon  credit,  correspond  with  the 
variouj  roles  played  by  money,  though  they  do  not  ex- 
haust them. 

Capital  scarcely  exists  at  the  first  stage;  we  meet  only 
with  consumption  goods.  At  the  second  stage  implements 
of  labour  may  be  classed  under  the  usual  head  of  business 
capital,  but  this  is  by  no  means  generally  true  of  the  raw 
materials.  Acquisitive  capital  proper  exists  only  in  the 
form  of  trade  capital.  At  the  third,  acquisitive  capital  rep- 
resents the  means  whereby  goods  are  raised  from  ona 
stage  of  division  of  labour  to  the  next  and  impelled 
through  the  whole  process  of  circulation.'®  Here  every- 
thing becomes  capital.  From  this  point  of  view  we  might 
describe  the  independent  household  economy  as  lacking 
capital,  town  economy  as  hostile  to  capital,  and  national 
economy  as  capitalistic. 

Income  and  zvcalth  under  the  household  system  com- 
pose an  undivided  and  indivisible  whole;  though  the  be- 
ginnings of  ground-rent  are  already  perceptible.  In  town 
economy  interest  also  usually  appears  as  ground-rent; 
business  profits  are  confined  almost  entirely  to  trade;  the 
chief  form  of  labour-wage  is  the  wage  paid  to  the  crafts- 
man by  the  consumer.  But  even  yet  most  commodities 
do  not  pass  from  their  place  of  production  into  other  es- 
tablishments. Pure  income  can  be  realized  only  by  one 
who  dehnitely  surrenders  a  portion  of  his  wealth  in  the 
purchase  of  rents.  At  the  stage  of  national  economy  the 
four  branches  of  income  are  definitely  separated.    Almost 


'  Cotnp.  also  Chaps 


v  an 


d  VII 


144 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


m  V 


the  whole  return  from  production  is  liquidated  through 
trade.  Under  wealth,  rent  and  acquisitive  capital  are  dis- 
tinct from  stores  for  consumption,  which  are  kept  at  the 
lowest  imaginable  limit,  since  commerce  frees  individuals 
from  the  keeping  of  supplies.  On  the  other  hand  the  un- 
used surpluses  of  income,  which  at  the  first  and  second 
stages  necessarily  remained  over  from  the  wealth  available 
for  consumption,  are  now  either  directly  added  to  business 
capital  or  transformed  by  means  of  saving-  and  other 
banks  into  interest-bearing  loans, — that  is,  they  are,  in 
any  case,  converted  into  capital. 

At  the  stage  of  household  economy  the  division  of  labour 
is  confined  to  the  household  establishment;  at  the  stage  of 
town  economy  it  consists  either  in  the  forma  a  of,  and 
division  into,  trades  within  the  town,  or  in  a  partition  of 
production  between  town  and  country;  while  the  promi- 
nent features  of  the  stage  of  national  economy  are  increas- 
ing division  of  production,  subdivision  of  work  within  the 
various  establishments,  and  displacement  of  labour  from 
one  business  to  another.^" 

Jndustry  as  an  independent  occupation  is  not  found  at 
the  first  stage,  the  whole  transformation  of  raw  material 
being  merely  housework.  In  the  town  economy  we  indeed 
find  labourers  pursuing  some  special  industrial  occupa- 
tion, but  entrepreneurs  are  lacking;  industry  is  either 
wage-work  or  handicraft,  and  he  who  wishes  to  ply  it  must 
first  master  it.  In  national  economy  industry  carried  on  in 
factories  and  under  the  commission  system  is  preponder- 
ant; and  this  presupposes  extensive  capital  and  an  entre- 
preneur with  mercantile  skill.  Technical  mastery  of  the 
process  of  production  by  the  entrepreneur  is  not  indis- 
pensable.'* 

"  For  further  details  see  Chap.  VIII. 
"  Comp.  Chap  IV. 


THE  RISE  OF  N/ITIONAL  ECONOMY. 


145 


In  similar  fashion  a  change  occurs  in  the  forms  under 
which  trade  is  pursued.  Corresponding  to  the  household 
system  is  itinerant  trade,  to  town  economy  market  trade, 
and  to  national  economy  trade  with  permanent  establish- 
ment. If  at  the  first  two  stages  trade  is  merely  supple- 
mentary to  an  otherwise  autonomous  system  of  produc- 
tion, it  becomes  in  national  economy  a  necessary  link 
between  production  and  consimiption.  It  draws  away 
from  transportation,  which  now  attains  an  independent 
position  and  organization. 

Commercial  services  were,  to  be  sure,  not  lacking  in  the 
ancienTsTave  and  the  mediaeval  manorial  systems;  they  de- 
volved upon  special  slaves  or  serfs.  In  the  Middle  Ages 
we  find  town  messengers  who  were  originally  in  the  ex- 
clusive service  of  the  municipal  authorities,  but  later  added 
the  carriage  of  private  correspondence.  At  the  threshold 
of  modem  times  stands  the  postal  service,  at  first  restricted 
to  state  purposes,  by-and-bye  extended  to  the  public.  In 
our  century  follow  the  railway,  telegraph,  telephone,  and 
steamship  lines — with  which  the  State  interferes  in  the 
interest  of  economy — and  along  with  them  the  most  varied 
private  undertakings  for  facilitating  communication." 
AfaJlthestages,  however,  certain  commercial  services  have 
been  organized  by  the  sovereign  administration,  in  the 
initial  instance  always  for  its  own  special  requirements. 

Credit  is  at  the  first  stage  purely  consumption  credit; 
and  can  be  obtained  only  by  the  person  pledging  himself 
and  all  his  property.  At  the  second  stage,  in  the  matter  of 
personal  credit,  servitude  for  debt  is  softened  to  imprison- 
ment for  debt.  Along  with  consumption  credit  appears  a 
type  of  credit  on  the  return  from  immovables  which  is 
met  in  garb  of  a  purchase,  and  must  be  considered  as  the 
■  For  the  analogous  development  in  the  newspaper  press  see  Chap. 


146 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


normal  form  of  credit  under  town  economy.  Business  or 
productive  credit,  the  distinctive  form  of  credit  in  modern 
times,  is  first  developed  in  trade,  whence  it  spreads  to 
every  sphere  of  industrial  life.  State  credit  appears  in  the 
States  of  antiquity  naturally  as  a  forced  loan;  in  the  medi- 
aeval towns  as  the  sale  of  annuities  and  redeemable  claims; 
in  the  modern  States  as  the  disposing  of  perpetual  rents 
or  of  redeemable  interest-bearing  bonds. 

In  the  domain  of  public  services  similar  stages  may  also 
be  pointed  out.  Legal  protection  is  at  first  a  matter  for 
the  clan,  later  for  the  feudal  lord;  in  the  Middle  Ages  the 
towns  form  districts  of  separate  jurisdiction;  at  present 
the  enforcement  of  law  and  police  protection  are  functions 
of  the  State.  The  same  is  the  case  with  education.  At 
the  first  stage  education  devolves  upon  the  family,  as  it  does 
to-day  still  in  Iceland.  The  Roman  pccdagogus  is  a  slave. 
In  the  Middle  Ages  it  is  autonomous  household  establish- 
ments, namely,  the  monasteries,  that  organize  the  educa- 
tional system;  later  arise  the  municipal  and  cathedral 
schools;  peculiar  to  modem  times  are  the  concentration 
and  supervision  of  instruction  in  state  institutions.  This 
development  is  even  more  apparent  in  the  arrangements  for 
defence.  Among  many  peoples  still  at  the  stage  of  eco- 
nomic isolation  each  separate  house  is  fortified  (for  ex- 
ample, the  palisades  c'  the  Malays  and  Polynesians),  and 
in  early  medijcval  times  the  manor  is  protected  by  wall  and 
moat.  At  the  second  economic  stage  each  city  is  a  fort- 
ress; at  the  th'rd  a  few  fortifications  along  the  borders 
secure  the  whole  State.  It  is  sufficiently  significant  that 
Louvois,  the  creator  of  the  first  system  of  border  fortifica- 
tion, was  a  coiitemporary  of  Colbert,  the  founder  of  mod- 
ern French  national  economy. 

These  parallels  might  be  multiplied.  As  in  moving  into 
a  new  building  one's  first  care  is  to  introduce  order  for 


THE  RISE   OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY.  147 

the  time  being,  so  with  regard  to  the  subject-matter  of  this 
chapter  no  fair-minded  person  will  expect  that  everything 
has  been  exhaustively  treated  and  every  detail  assigned  its 
proper  place.  The  writer  clearly  perceives  how  inade- 
quately the  various  phenomena  of  the  two  earlier  stages 
of  industrial  evolution  have  as  yet  been  worked  over,  and 
how  very  seriously  their  economic  significance  still  de- 
mands accurate  ascertainment.  But  for  the  present  it  may 
suffice  If  we  have  made  clear  the  regularity  of  development 
both  generally  and  in  detail. 

Only  one  thing  further  would  we  particularly  em- 
phasize. Household  economy,  town  economy,  national 
economy— these  phrases  do  not  denote  a  series  whose 
terms  are  mutually  exclusive.  One  kind  of  economic  life 
has  always  been  the  predominant,  and  in  the  eyes  of  con- 
temporaries the  normal,  one.  Many  elements  of  town 
economy,  and  even  of  independent  domestic  economy 
still  project  into  the  present.  Even  to-day  a  very  consid- 
erable part  of  the  national  production  does  not  pass  into 
general  circulation,  but  is  consumed  in  the  households 
where  it  is  produced;  another  po-tion.  again,  circulates 
no  farther  than  from  one  establishment  to  another. 

Hence  it  would  almost  appear  as  if  those  people  were 
in  error  who  regard  the  task  of  political  economy  to  be 
the  explanation  of  the  nature  and  coherence  of  commercial 
phenomena,  and  those  right  who  confine  themselves  to  a 
descriptior  of  economic  forms  and  their  historical  trans- 
formations. 

Vet  that  would  be  a  fatal  error,  involving  the  sur- 
render of  the  scientific  labours  of  over  a  century,  as  wHl 
ar  a  complete  misconception  of  our  economic  prosf^nl. 
To-day  not  a  sack  of  wheat  is  produced  even  on  the  most 
remote  farm,  that  is  not  directly  linked  to  the  industrial 
hfe  nf  the  nation  as  a  whole.    Even  if  it  be  consumed  m 


148 


THE  RISE  OF  NATIONAL  ECONOMY. 


the  house  of  the  producer,  nevertheless  a  large  portion  of 
the  means  of  its  production  (the  plough,  the  scythe,  the 
threshing-machine,  the  artificial  fertilizers,  the  draught- 
animals,  etc.)  is  obtained  through  trade;  and  the  con- 
sumption of  one's  own  products  takes  place  only  when 
from  market  conditions  it  seems  economically  advisable. 
Thus  the  sack  of  wheat  is  knit  by  a  strong  cord  to  the  great 
intricate  web  of  national  commerce.  And  so  are  we  all  in 
our  every  economic  thought  and  deed. 

It  is  therefore  a  matter  of  great  satisfaction  that,  after 
a  period  of  diligent  collection  of  material,  the  economic 
problems  of  modern  commerce  have  in  recent  times  been 
zealously  taken  up  again,  and  that  an  attempt  is  being 
made  to  correct  and  develop  the  old  system  in  the  same 
way  in  which  it  arose,  with  the  aid,  however,  of  a  much 
larger  store  of  facts.  For  the  only  method  of  investigation 
which  will  enable  us  to  approach  the  complex  causes  of 
commercial  phenomena  is  that  of  abstract  isolation,  and 
logical  deduction.  The  sole  inductive  process  that  can 
likewise  be  considered,  namely,  the  statistical,  is  not  suffi- 
ciently exact  and  penetrating  for  most  of  the  problems 
that  have  to  be  handled  here,  and  can  be  employed  only 
to  supplement  or  control. 

For  the  economic  periods  of  the  past  the  task  will  not  be 
different.  Here,  to  be  sure,  it  will  be  even  more  necessary 
first  to  collect  the  facts  and  present  them  according  to 
form  and  function;  next  we  must  gain  a  proper  conception 
of  the  nature  of  the  phenomena;  and  then  we  may  logically 
dissect  them  and  investigate  their  casual  connection.  We 
will  thus  have  to  advance  by  the  same  method  that  "  classi- 
cal political  economy  "  has  applied  to  the  industry  of  the 
present.  For  some  phases  of  the  economic  life  of  the  an- 
cient oUos  this  has  already  been  done  in  a  masterful  man- 
ner by  Rodbcrtus;  for  the  economic  life  of  the  Middle 


THE  RISE  OF  N^ITIONML  ECONOMY. 


149 


Ages  such  a  task  has  yet  scarcely  been  essayed.  The  at- 
tempt can  succeed  only  with  investigators  fully  able  to 
grasp  the  actual  assumptions  of  past  economic  periods 
and  our  ancestors'  ways  of  thinking  on  economic  matters; 
it  can  but  fail  if  the  half  understood,  half  arbitrarily  recon- 
structed economic  conditions  of  the  past  continue  to  be 
reflected  in  terms  of  the  modem  theory  of  exchange. 

Only  in  this  way,  in  our  opinion,  can  investigations  in 
economic  history  and  the  theory  of  contemporary  eco- 
nomics be  mutually  helpful;  only  thus  can  we  gain  a 
clearer  insight  into  the  regularity  both  of  economic  devel- 
opment and  of  economic  phenomena. 


i 


CHAPTER  IV. 

A  HISTORICAL   SURVEY   OF   INDUSTRIAL   SYSTEMS. 

In  economic  and  social  matters  most  people  have  very 
definite  opinions  on  what  should  be,  often  much  more 
definite  than  on  what  is.  What  in  their  view  should  be  is 
by  no  means  an  ideal  state  of  affairs,  an  imaginative  crea- 
tion that  has  never  been  realized.  Very  frequently  indeed 
it  is  a  conception  drawn  from  the  conditions  that  prevailed 
in  times  more  or  less  remote,  which  long  custom  has  led 
us  to  consider  normal. 

Such  is  the  case,  if  we  mistake  not,  with  many  of  our 
contemporaries  regarding  what  we  call  handicraft  and  the 
so-called  handicraft  problem.  One  has  become  accus- 
tomed to  look  upon  handicraft  as  the  normal  form  of  in- 
dustry, after  it  has  dominated  five  centuries  or  more  of 
the  life  of  the  burgher  class  of  Germany.  The  proverb 
says  "  Handicraft  stands  on  golden  ground  ";  and  obser- 
vation teaches  us  that  this  ground  is,  according  to  present- 
day  valuation,  no  longer  golden.  We  ask  ourselves  how 
that  happy  condition  can  be  restored,  how  handicraft  can 
be  "  resuscitated." 

Rut  what  right  has  one  to  regard  handicraft  as  the 
normal  form  of  industry  and  thus  as  it  were  to  strive  after 
an  ideal  whose  realization  belongs  to  the  past? 

The  earlier  political  economists  represent  handicraft  as 

the  original  form  of  industrial  production.    "  In  a  tribe  of 

150 


A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.      151 

hunters  or  shepherds,"  says  Adam  Smith/  "  a  particular 
person  makes  bows  and  arrows  with  more  readiness  and 
dexterity  than  any  other.  He  frequently  exchanges  them 
for  cattle  or  venison  with  his  companions;  and  he  finds  at 
last  that  he  can  in  this  manner  get  more  cattle  and  venison 
than  if  he  himself  went  to  the  field  to  catch  them." 
Finally,  "  the  making  of  bows  and  arrows  grows  to  be  his 
chief  business  and  he  becomes  a  sort  of  armourer."  If  we 
follow  this  historical  progress  a  couple  of  stages  further, 
the  original  handicraftsman  will  after  a  time  probably  take 
an  apprentice,  and  when  the  latter  has  learned  his  trade,  a 
second,  while  the  first  becomes  his  journeyman. 

Seek  as  we  may,  we  find  nothing  added  by  subsequent 
development.    When  we  speak  of  a  craftsman  to-day  we 
have  in  mind  a  business  undertaker  on  a  small  scale,  who 
has  passed  by  regular  stages  of  transition  from  apprentice 
to  journeyman  and  from  journeyman  to  master  workman, 
who  produces  with  his  own  hand  and  his  own  capital  for 
a  locally  limited  circle  of  customers,  and  into  whose  hands 
flows   undiminished    the   whole   pi  .duct   of  his   labour. 
Everything  that  one  can  demand  of  an  industrial  system 
founded  on  justice  seems  realized  in  the  life  of  the  typical 
craftsman— gradual  social  progress,  independence,  an  in- 
come  corresponding   to   services   rendered.     And   those 
forms  of  industry  that  vary  from  this  primal  type,  namely, 
house  industry  and  factory  production,  may  readily  ap- 
pear abnormal;  and  the  social  stratification  of  those  em- 
ployed,  and   the   accompanying   unequal   distribution   of 
income  out  of  harmony  with  the  idea  of  economic  justice. 
Even  later  economists  are  rarely  free  from  this  popular 
conception.     In  contrasting  the  three  industrial  systems 
that  they  recognise,  handicraft,  house  industry,  and  factory 

"  Bk.  I,  ch.  2. 


152      A  HISTORICAL  SURf^EY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 


n      P 


production,  they  almost  unwittingly  draw  from  the  funda- 
mental institutions  of  handicraft  the  criterion  for  judging 
the  others.  Until  quite  recently  house  industry  was  for 
many  of  them  merely  a  degenerate  handicraft  or  a  transi- 
tional form,  and  the  factory  a  necessary  evil  of  the  age  of 
machinery.  This  narrowness  of  view  was  prejudicial  to  the 
scientific  understanding  of  even  modern  industrial  meth- 
ods, open  as  these  are  to  direct  observation. 

An  historically  constructive  view,  such  as  we  will  here 
present,  must  from  the  start  shake  off  the  idea  that  any 
particular  form  in  any  department  of  economic  activity 
can  be  the  norm  for  all  times  and  peoples.  Even  handi- 
craft is  for  it  only  one  phenomenon  in  the  great  stream 
of  history,  with  its  origin,  continuance,  and  success  de- 
pendent upon  certain  given  economic  conditions.  It  is 
neither  the  original  nor  even  a  necessary  form  in  the  his- 
torical evolution  of  industrial  production.  It  is,  in  other 
words,  just  as  little  necessary  that  the  industry  of  a  country 
shall  have  passed  through  the  handicraft  phase  before  ar- 
riving at  house  industry  or  factory  manufacture  as  that 
every  people  shall  have  been  hunters  or  nomads  before 
passing  over  to  settled  agriculture.  Among  us  handicraft 
has  been  preceded  by  other  industrial  systems,  which,  in- 
deed, even  in  Europe,  still  exist  in  part. 

The  great  historical  significance  of  these  primitive  in- 
dustrial forms  in  the  evolution  of  economic  conditions  has 
hitherto  been  almost  wholly  ignored,  although  they  shaped 
for  thousands  of  years  the  economic  life  of  the  nations  and 
left  lasting  marks  upon  their  social  organizations.  Only  a 
comparatively  small  portion  of  the  history  of  industry, 
namely,  that  part  which  written  laws  have  enabled  us  to 
know,  has  been  at  all  cleared  up;  and  this.  too.  much  more 
on  its  formal  side  than  as  regards  its  inner  life,  its  method 
of  operation.     Even  the  guild  handicraft  of  the  Middle 


■ 


M  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.      153 

Ages,  to  which  in  recent  times  so  much  persevering  and 
penetrating  labour  has  been  devoted,  has,  on  the  side  of 
its  actual  operation,  enjoyed  scarcely  more  accurate  in- 
vestigation. In  this  domain  arbitrary  theoretical  con- 
structions based  upon  the  postulates  and  concepts  of 
modern  commercial  economy  still  widely  prevail. 

Our  "  historical  "  political  enonomy,  it  is  true,  has  a 
wealth  of  material  for  the  economic  history  of  the  classical 
and  modem  peoples.     But  it  has  hardly  yet  been  duly 
noted  that  the  complex  nature  of  all  social  phenomena  ren- 
ders it  just  as  difficult  for  the  investigator  of  to-day  to  re- 
construct the  economic  conditions  of  the  life  of  the  na- 
tions of  antiquity  and  of  the  Middle  Ages  as  to  forecast 
even  with  the  most  lively  and  powerful  imagination  the 
ultimate  consequences  of  the  "  socialist  State  of  the  fu- 
ture."   We  shall  not  arrive  at  an  understanding  of  whole 
epochs  of  early  economic  history  until  we  study  the  eco- 
nomic side  of  the  life  of  primitive  and  uncivilized  peoples 
of  the  present  with  the  care  we  to-day  devote  to  English- 
men and  Americans.    Instead  of  sending  our  young  politi- 
cal economists  on  journeys  of  investigation  to  these  latter, 
we  should  rather  send  them  to  the  Russians,  the  Rumani- 
ans, or  the  South  Slavs;  we  should  study  the  characteristic 
features  of  primitive  economic  life  and  the  legal  concep- 
tions of  the  peoples  of  our  newly  acquired  colonies  before 
such  features  and  conceptions  disappear  under  the  influ- 
ence of  European  trade. 

It  is  almost  a  fortunate  circumstance  that  such  external 
influences  rarely  aflFect  deeply  the  real  life  of  the  people, 
but  are  confined  chiefly  to  the  more  privileged  classes. 
Hence  it  is  that  in  extensive  regions  of  eastern  and  north- 
ern Europe,  which  the  unheeding  traveller  courses 
through  by  rail,  there  may  still  be  observed  among  the 


154      A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

rural  population  primiiive  forms  of  production  that  mod- 
em commerce  has  caused  to  vary  but  slightly. 

In  the  attempt  made  in  the  following  pages  to  give  a 
compact  presentation  of  what  we  know  of  the  industrial 
methods  of  "-uch  "  backward  "  tribes  and  the  present  C'  n- 
clusions  of  industrial  history,  our  sole  aim  is  to  present 
in  clear  outline  the  chief  stages  of  development.*  In  or- 
der to  have  a  guiding  thread  through  the  perplexing  va- 
riety and  wealth  of  forms  of  individual  ethnographical 
observations,  it  is  most  necessary  to  separate  i}  ^lical  and 
casual,  to  disregard  subsidiary  and  transitional  forms,  and 
to  consider  a  new  phase  of  development  as  beginning  only 
where  changes  in  industrial  technique  call  forth  economic 
phenomena  that  imply  a  radical  alteration  in  the  organ- 
ization of  society.  In  this  way  we  arrive  at  five  main  sys- 
tems of  industrj-.     In  historical  succession  they  are: 

1.  Housework  (Domestic  Work). 

2.  Wage-work. 

3.  Handicraft. 

4.  Commission  Work  (House  Industry). 

5.  Factory  Work. 

We  shall  first  attempt  to  give  a  concise  outline  of 
the  characteristic  economic  peculiarities  of  these  indus- 
trial systems,  merely  indicating  the  socio-historical  im- 
port of  the  whole  development.  The  filling  out  of  oc- 
casional gaps  and  the  explanation  of  the  transitions  from 
one  system  to  the  other  may  be  left  to  detailed  investiga- 
tion. In  our  sketch  we  shall,  naturally,  devote  most  time 
to  the   two   industrial   systems  precedent   to   handicraft, 

'The  present  sketch  brings  together  in  popular  form  only  the  most 
important  features.  Further  discussion,  and  references  to  the  most 
essential  literature,  will  be  found  in  my  article  under  the  head  "  Ge- 
werbe"  in  the  Handwort.  der  Staatswiss.  (2d  ed.),  IV,  pp.  360-393. 


A  HISTORICAL  SURyEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.      155 

while  for  the  later  a  brief  account  may  suffice.    We  begin 
with  housework.' 

Housework  is  industrial  production  in  and  for  the  house 
from  raw  materials  furnished  by  the  household  itself.     In 
its  original  and  purest  form  it  presupposes  the  absence 
of  exchange,  and  the  ability  of  each  household  to  satisfy 
by  its  own  labour  the  wants  of  its  members.     Each  com- 
modity passes  through  all  the  stages  of  production  in  the 
establishment  in  which  it  is  to  be  consumed.     Production 
is  consequently  undertaken  only  according  to  the  needs  of 
the  house  itself.     There  is  still  neither  circulation  of  goods 
nor  capital.     The  wealth  of  the  house  consists  entirely  in 
consumption  goods  in  various  stages  of  completion,  such 
as  corn,  meal,  bread,  flax,  yarn,  cloth,  and  clothes.    It  also 
possesses  auxiliary  means  of  production,  such  as  the  hand- 
mill,  the  :i  <e,  the  distafif,  and  the  weaver's  loom,  but  no 
goods  with  which  it  could  procure  other  goods  by  pro- 
cess of  exchange.     All  it  has  it  owes  to  its  own  lalwur, 

'  It  is  from  Norway  and  Sweden  that  the  expression  HausAeiss 
(housework)  has  been  transplanted  into  Germany,  where  during  the 
last  twenty  years  it  has  become  current.  In  those  countries  it  was 
employed  for  certain  occupations  of  the  members  of  the  domestic 
circle,  such  as  spinning,  weaving,  sewing,  the  making  of  wooden 
utensils,  and  tl.  °  like.  It  is  the  application  of  industrial  technique 
that,  favoured  by  climate  and  settlement,  has  from  early  times  become 
indigenous  in  those  parts.  Through  it  the  peasant  household  works 
up  for  its  own  use  the  raw  material  from  field  and  wood.  As  this 
technique  threatened  to  disappear  under  the  influence  of  modern  com- 
mercial conditions  it  was  the  opinion  in  Denmark  and  Norway  that 
it  should  he  reanimated  through  school  instruction.  Few,  indeed,  of 
the  promoters  of  manual  instruction — this  new  branch  of  instruction, 
whose  pedagogical  importance  cannot  be  denied— have  formed  a  clear 
conception  of  what  housework  really  signified  and  in  part  still  signifies 
for  the  Northern  peoples.  Here  and  there,  especially  at  its  inaugura- 
tion, manual  tr  ining  was  regarded  as  a  means  for  establishing  new 
house  industries.  But  housework  and  house  industry  are  two  indus- 
trial systems  separated  historically  from  one  another  (at  least  among 
us)  by  two  centuries. 


156      A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

aiul  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  separate  the  operations  of  the 
household  from  those  of  production. 

In  the  fonn  of  housework,  intlustry  is  older  than  agri- 
culture. Wherever  explorers  of  new  countries  have  come 
into  contact  with  primitive  peoples,  they  have  found  many 
forms  of  industrial  skill,  such  as  the  making  of  bow  and 
arrow,  the  wea\  mg  of  mats  and  vessels  out  of  reeds,  bast, 
and  tough  roots,  a  primitive  pottery,  tanning  skins,  crush- 
ing farinaceous  strains  on  the  grinding-stone,  smelting 
iron  ore,  the  building  of  houses.  To-day  the  huntini, 
tribes  of  Norti<  America,  the  tisher  tribes  of  the  South  Se;i 
the  nomad  hordes  of  Siberia,  and  the  agricultural  neg-^ 
tribes  of  Africa  make  similar  display  of  varied  technical 
skill  without  possessi  ig  actual  artisans.  Even  the  wretched 
naked  forest  tribes  of  Central  Brazil  make  their  clubs  and 
bows  and  arrows,  build  houses  and  >ark  canoes,  make 
tools  of  bone  and  stoae,  weave  baskets  for  carrying  and 
storing,  scoop  out  gourd  dishes,  spin,  knit,  and  weave, 
form  artistically  ornamented  clay  vessels  without  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  potter's  wheel,  carve  ornamented  digging- 
sticks,  stools,  flutes,  combs,  and  masks,  and  prepare  many 
kinds  of  ornaments  out  of  feathers,  skins,  etc. 

In  the  temperate  and  colder  countries  with  the  advance 
to  the  use  of  the  plough,  this  activity  loses  more  and  more 
the  character  of  the  accidental;  the  whole  husbandry  ac- 
quires a  settled  character;  the  mild  period  of  the  year  must 
be  devoted  to  the  procuring  of  raw  material  and  to  out- 
door work:  in  winter  the  working  up  of  this  material 
clusters  the  members  of  the  household  around  the  hearth. 
For  each  kind  of  work  there  is  developed  a  definite  method 
which  is  incorporated  into  the  domestic  life  according  to 
the  natural  and  imperative  demand;  of  economy;  about  it 
custom  weaves  its  fine  golden  ethical  thread:  it  enriches 
and  ennobles  the  lite  of  men  among  whom,  with  its  sim- 


A  HtSTORIC/iL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRI/1L  SYSTEMS.      157 


4 


pie  technique  and  archaic  forms,  it  is  transmitted  from  gen- 
eration to  generation.  As  people  labour  only  for  their 
own  requirements,  the  interest  of  the  producer  in  the  work 
of  his  hands  long  survives  the  completion  r  i  the  work.  His 
highest  technical  skill  and  his  whole  ariistic  sense  are  em- 
bodied in  it.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  products  of  do- 
■^estic  work  throughout  Germany  have  become  for  our 
v.  of  artistic  industry  such  a  rich  mine  of  models  of  pop- 
u  a    style. 

''  le  Norwegian  peasant  is  not  merely  his  own  smith  and 
j  ;  ler,  like  the  Westphalian  Hofschulzc  in  Immermann's 
'  Munchhauset.  ";  with  his  own  hands  he  also  builds  his 
V  joden  house,  makes  his  field-implements,  wagons  and 
■sleighs,  tans  leather,  carves  from  wood  various  kinds  of 
'louse  utensils,  and  even  makes  metal  ones."  In  Iceland 
the  very  peasants"  are  skilful  workers  in  silver.  In  the 
Highlands  of  Scotland,  up  to  the  close  of  last  century, 
every  man  was  his  own  weaver,  fuller,  tanner,  and  shoe- 
maker. In  Galicia  and  Bukowina,  in  many  parts  of  Hun- 
gary and  Siebenbiirgen,  in  Rumania,  and  among  the 
southern  Slav  peoples  there  could  scar  ely  be  found,  down 
to  recent  times,  any  other  craftsman  than  the  smith,  and 
he  was  usually  a  gypsy.  In  Greece  and  other  lands  of  the 
Balkan  peninsula  the  only  additional  craftsmen  were  oc- 
casional vandering  builders.''     Numberless  examples  of  a 

'Eile  I  Sundt.  Om  Hu.1iden  i  Norge  (Christiania,  1867).  Blom,  Das 
Konign  .\on.'ege»  (Leipzig,  1843),  P-  237.  Forester,  Xoru<ay  in 
i84f  end  1849  (London,  1850),  p.  113.  E-  Sidenbladh.  Schweden,  Statist. 
Mitteiiungen  s.  ll'icner  IVeltausstellung,  1873. 

•[Dr.  Biicher  is  evidenUy  speaking  of  the  Icelandic  peasant  of  an 
earlier  time. — En.] 

'  On  the  Austrian  populations  compare  Die  Hausmduslrie  Oesterreichs. 
Ein  Kommcntar  z.  hausindustrieUen  Abteilung  auf  d.  allgemeinen  land-  u. 
forJ.wirtschaftlich.  Ausstdluug  su  IV'"*!.  1890,  ed.  by  W.  Exner;  also 
Oesterreichische  Monatsschritt  fiir  Gesellschaftswissenschaft,  IV, 
90 ff..  VIII,  22.  IX.  98  and  331;    A.   Riegl,   Textile  hausindustrie  in 


f?>.ti 


158     A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

similar  kind  might  be  adduced  from  other  peoples.  The 
wonderful  adroitness  and  dexterity  of  the  Russian  and 
Swedish  peasants,  to  cite  a  striking  instance,  has  its  un- 
doubted origin  in  the  varied  technical  tasks  of  their  own 
households.  The  industrial  employments  of  women  in 
ancient  and  modern  times,  such  as  spinning,  weaving,  bak- 
ing, etc.,  are  too  well  known  to  call  for  further  reference. 

In  order  to  obtain  an  idea  of  the  wealth  of  domestic  in- 
dustrial skill  that  charactenzes  the  life  of  less  civilized  peo- 
ples a  detailed  description  would  be  necessary.  Lack  of 
space  unfortunately  forbids  that  here.  It  will  suffice,  how- 
ever, to  reproduce  the  following  sentences  from  an  account 
of  household  work  in  Bukowina:* 

•'  In  the  narrow  circle  of  the  family,  or  at  least  within 
the  limits  of  his  little  village,  the  Bukowina  countryman 
supplies  all  his  own  necessaries.  In  building  a  house  the 
husband,  as  a  rule,  can  do  the  work  of  carpenter,  roofer, 
etc.,  while  the  wife  must  attend  to  plastering  the  woven 
and  slatted  walls  or  stopping  the  chinks  in  the  log  wa..:> 
with  moss,  pounding  out  of  the  floor,  and  many  other 
dilated  duties.  From  the  cultivation  of  the  plant  from 
which  cloth  is  spun  or  the  raising  of  sheep  down  to  the 

Oesterreich  in  the  Mi.tciluPgT.  d.  k.  k.  tistcrreich.  Museums,  New 
Series,  IV,  pp.  .,11  ff.;  Braar  und  Krejesi.  Der  Hausdeiss  in  Ungarn 
(Leipzig,  1886);  Schwic'<cr,  i:tatistik  d.  Kbnigreichs  Vngarn,  pp.  403 ff-. 
411,  426 flf.;  J.  Tanet,  Luiartt  u.  Siebcnburgen  (Leipzig,  184^),  H,  pp. 
i6j!  173.  264.  J69;  Franz  Joseph  Prinz  \->n  BaUenberg,  Die  I'olks- 
wirtschafll  EntwicMung  Hulgaricns  (Leipzig,  iSgi. ;  Iwantschoff, 
Primitive  Formen  d.  Ccwerbcbctriebs  in  liulgaricn  (Leipzig,  1896).  On 
the  other  lands  of  the  Balkan  peninsula  sec  Reports  from  Her  Majesty's 
Diflomalic  and  Consular  Agents  Abroad,  respecting  the  Condition  ot  the 
Industrial  Classes  in  Foreign  Countries  (London,  1870-72);  Tarajanz, 
Das  Ceu'erbe  bei  d.  Armeniern  (Leipzig,  1897):  Petri,  Ehstland  u.  d. 
Ehslcn  (r.ntli.i.  i«o.').  II.  pp.  2,10- 1. 

"C.  A.  RomMorfcr  in  Kxner,  Die  llausinduslrie  Oesterreuhs.  pp. 
iSOfT.  Comp.  H.  Wiglitzky.  Die  Uukoumacr  I'ausindustrie  u.  d.  MiUtl 
N.  IVege  :.  Hebung  derselb.  (Czernowitz,  1888). 


A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       159 

making  of  bed  and  other  clothes  out  of  linen,  wool  or  furs, 
leather,  felt,  or  plaited  straw,  the  Bukowina  country  folk 
produce  everything,  including  dyes  from  plants  of  their 
own  culture,  as  well  as  the  necessary  though,  indeed,  ex- 
tremely primitive  utensils.  The  same  holds  in  general 
of  the  food-supply.  With  a  rather  heavy  expenditure  of 
labour  the  peasant  cultivates  his  field  of  maize,  and  with 
his  handmill  grinds  the  kukuruz  meal  used  by  him  in  bak- 
ing mamaliga,  his  chief  article  of  food,  which  resembles 
polenta.  His  simple  farming  implements,  the  dishes  and 
utensils  for  household  and  kitchen,  he,  or,  if  not  he,  some 
self-taught  villager,  is  also  able  to  make.  The  working  of 
iron,  alone,  a  substance  that  the  native  population  uses  in 
exceedingly  small  quantities,  he  generally  leaves  to  the 
gypsies  scattered  through  the  country." 

Yet  whatever  the  industrial  skill  developed  by  the  self- 
sufficing  household,  such  a  method  of  supply  was  destined 
to  prove  inadequate  when  the  household  diminished  to  the 
smaller  cii  '  ?  of  blood-relations,  which  we  call  the  family. 
The  ancient  family  group,  it  is  true,  was  broader  than  our 
present  family;  but  just  at  the  time  when  wants  are  in- 
creasing in  extent  and  variety,  the  tribal  organization  of 
many  peoples  breaks  down  and  a  more  minute  division  of 
labour  among  the  members  of  the  househo]<l  is  rendered 
iinnossible.  The  transition  to  specialized  production  and 
a  system  of  exchange  would  at  this  point  have  been  un- 
avoidable had  it  not  been  possible,  by  adopting  slaves  or 
by  utilizing  serf  labour,  to  enlarge  artificially  the  house- 
hold circle.  The  greater  the  number  of  these  unfrce  mem- 
bers of  ti.c  household,  the  easier  it  is  to  introduce  a  varied 
division  of  labour  among  them  atul  to  train  each  person 
for  a  definite  industrial  employment. 

Thus  we  find  among  the  house-slaves  of  the  wealthy 


I  tl 


l6o      A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

Greeks  and  Romans  industrial  workers  of  various  kinds;* 
and  in  the  famous  instructions  of  Charles  the  Great  regard- 
ing the  management  of  his  country  estates  we  have  definite 
rules  prescribing  what  kinds  of  unfree  workers  shall  be 
maintained  at  each  villa.  "  Each  steward,"  we  read, 
"  shall  have  in  his  service  good  workmen,  such  as  smiths, 
workers  in  gold  and  silver,  shoemakers,  turners,  car- 
penters, shield-makers,  fishers,  fowlers,  soap-boilers,  brew- 
ers of  mead  {siccratorcs),  bakers,  and  net-makers,"  Co- 
pious evidence  of  a  similar  kind  is  available  for  the  manors 
of  the  nobility  and  the  monasteries.  The  handicraftsmen 
maintained  by  them  are  at  their  exclusive  service;  in  some 
cases  they  are  merely  domestic  servants  receiving  their 
board  and  lodging  in  the  manor-house,  in  others  they  are 
settled  and  gain  their  living  on  their  own  holdings,  and  in 
return  render  villein  services  in  that  branch  of  labour  in 
which  they  have  special  skill.  In  token  that  they  are  en- 
gaged to  hold  their  skill  at  the  service  of  the  manor,  they 
bear  the  title  ofUcialcs,  ofliciati,  i.e.,  officials. 

Hou.sework,  we  see,  has  here  obtained  an  extensive  or- 
ganization, which  allows  the  lord  of  the  manor  a  relatively 
large  and  varied  consumption  of  industrial  products. 

But  housework  does  not  remain  mere  production  for 
direct  consumption.  At  a  very  early  stage  inequality  of 
natural  endowment  causes  a  varied  development  of  techni- 
cal skill.  One  tribe  produces  pottery, stone  implements,  or 
arrows,  and  a  neighbouring  tribe  does  not.  Such  industrial 
products  are  then  scattered  among  other  tribes  as  gifts 
of  hospitality,  or  as  spoils  of  war.  and  later  as  the  objects 
of  exchange."  .\mong  the  ancient  Greeks  wealthy  slave- 
owners cansed  a  considerable  number  of  their  dependent 

•Comp   H.  Fr.incotte,  l.'lnduslric  dans  la  Crhc  andenne,  I  (Briissels. 
iqoo);  Walloti,  Hist,  de  Uisclavagc  dans  I  /InliquiU  ( 2(\  cd..  Vans,  iS/g). 
•  Comp.  above,  pp.  54  IT. 


A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       i6i 

labourers,  whom  they  did  not  need  for  their  o»vn  estates,  to 
be  trained  for  a  special  industry,  and  then  to  produce  for 
the  market.  In  a  similar  fashion  peasant  families  exchange 
the  surplus  products  of  their  household  industry  more  fre- 
quently than  the  surpluses  from  their  apfriculture  or  cattle- 
raising.  As  in  the  Old  Testament  it  is  one  of  the  good 
qualities  of  the  virtuous  wife  to  dispose  of  the  wares  that 
her  own  hands  have  produced,**  so  to-day  the  negro  wife  in 
Central  Africa  carries  to  the  weekly  market  the  pots  or 
basketware  she  produces  in  order  to  exchange  them  for 
salt  or  pearls.  In  like  manner,  in  many  parts  of  Germany 
the  rural  population  have  from  the  beginning  of  the 
Middle  Ages  sold  their  linen  cloths  at  the  town  mar- 
kets and  fairs;  and  in  the  era  of  mercantilism  measures 
were  taken  by  the  government  in  Silesia  and  West- 
phalia to  facilitate  the  export  of  home-made  linen.  So 
also  in  the  Baltic  provinces  during  the  Middle  Ages  the 
coarse  woollen  cloth,  Vadhmal,  which  is  still  woven  by  the 
peasant  women,  was  one  of  the  best  known  articles  of 
trade,  and  actually  served  as  money.  Similarly  among 
many  African  peoples  domestic  products  made  by  neigh- 
bouring tribes  serve  as  general  mediums  of  exchange.  In 
almost  every  villager's  house  in  Japan  yarn  is  spun  and 
cloth  woven  out  of  cotton  grown  in  his  own  fields,  and  of 
this  a  portion  comes  into  exchange.  In  Sweden  the  West 
Goths  and  Smalanders  wander  through  almost  the  whole 
country  offering  for  sale  home-woven  stuffs.  In  Hungary, 
Galicia,  Rumania,  and  the  southern  Slav  countries.  ever>'- 
where  one  can  meet  with  pe.i'^ants  oflfering  for  sale  at  the 
weekly  town  markets  their  earthen  and  wooden  wares,  and 
peasant  women  selling,  along  with  vegetables  and  eggs, 
aprons,  embroidered  ribbons,  and  laces  which  they  them- 
.«elves  have  made. 

'  F.  Buhl,  Dit  social  I'crhdltnisse  d   IsratUtcn  (LeipziR,  iftyK),  p.  34, 


wmm 


■ 


i62      A  HISTORICAL  SURyEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

It  is  especially  when  the  land  owned  by  a  family  be- 
comes divided  up  and  no  longer  suffices  for  its  mainte- 
nance, that  a  part  of  the  rural  population  take  up  a  special 
branch  of  housework  and  produce  for  the  market  in  ex- 
actly the  same  way  as  our  small  peasants  in  South  Ger- 
many produce  wine,  hops,  or  tobacco.  At  first  the  neces- 
sary raw  material  is  gained  from  their  own  land  or 
drawn  from  the  communal  forests;  later  on,  if  need  be,  it 
is  also  purchased.  All  sorts  of  allied  branches  of  produc- 
tion are  added ;  and  thus  there  develops  out  of  housework, 
as  in  many  parts  of  Russia,  an  endlessly  varied  system  of 
peasant  industry  on  a  small  scale. 

But  the  evolution  may  take  another  course,  and  an  in- 
dependent professional  class  of  industrial  labourers  arise, 
and  with  them  our  second  industrial  system — zvage-work. 
Whereas  all  industrial  skill  has  hitherto  been  exercised  in 
close  association  with  property  in  land  and  tillage,  the 
adept  house-labourer  now  frees  himself  from  this  associa- 
tion, and  upon  his  technical  skill  founds  for  himself  an  ex- 
istence that  gradually  becomes  independent  of  property 
in  land.  But  he  has  only  his  simple  tools  for  work;  he  has 
no  business  capital.  He  therefore  always  exercise^  his 
skill  upon  raw  material  furnished  him  by  the  producer  of 
the  raw  material,  who  is  at  the  same  time  the  consumer  of 
the  finished  product. 

Here  again  two  distinct  forms  of  this  relationship 
are  possible.  In  one  ca.se  the  wage-worker  is  taken  tem- 
porarily into  the  house,  receives  his  board  and,  if  he  does 
not  belong  to  the  place,  his  lodging  as  well,  together  with 
the  daily  wage;  and  leaves  when  the  needs  of  his  customer 
are  satisfied.  In  South  Germany  we  call  this  going  on 
one's  itinerancy  iuuf  die  Star  j^chcn),  and  may  accordingly 
designate  the  wlmle  industrial  phase  as  that  of  ititirrancy 
(Stor),  and  the  labourer  carrying  on  work  in  this  manner 


A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       163 

as  the  itinerata  (Storer).  The  dressmakers  and  seam- 
stresses wham  our  women  in  many  places  are  accustomed 
to  take  inter  the  house  may  serve  as  an  illustration. 

On  the  otijcr  hand,  the  wage-worker  may  have  his  own 
place  of  business,  and  the  raw  material  be  given  out  to  him. 
For  working  it  iip  he  receives  piece-work  wage.  In  the 
country  the  linen-weaver,  the  miller,  and  the  baker  work- 
ing for  a  wage  are  examples.  We  will  designate  this  form 
of  work  home  work.''  It  is  met  with  chiefly  in  industries 
that  demand  permanent  means  of  production  difficult  to 
transport,  such  as  mills,  ovens,  weavers'  looms,  forges,  etc. 

Both  forms  of  wage-work  are  still  very  common  in  all 
parts  of  the  world.  Examples  might  be  drawn  from  In- 
dia and  Japan,  from  Morocco  and  the  Sudan,  and  from 
almost  all  European  countries.  The  system  can  be  traced 
m  Babylonian  temple  records  and  in  ancient  Egypt;  it  can 
be  followed  in  literature  from  Homer  down  through  an- 
cient and  mediaeval  times  to  the  present  day.  The  whole 
conception  of  the  relation  of  the  customer  to  the  independ- 
ent (personally  free  or  unfree)  artisan  in  early  Greek  and 
Roman  law  rests  upon  wage-work; »°  and  only  by  it  are 
numerous  ordinances  of  mediaeval  guild  law  to  be  ex- 
plained. 

In  the  .\lpine  lands  it  is  still  the  predominant  industrial 
method  in  the  country.  The  Styrian  writer  P.  K.  Roseg- 
ger  lias,  in  an  interesting  book,  •>  given  a  picture  of  his  ex- 
periences as  apprentice  to  a  peripatetic  tailor  carrying  on 
his  trade  among  the  peasants.  "  The  peasant  craftsmen," 
*  Heimwtrk. 

"  in  Diocletian's  edict  de  pretiis  rtrum  venaHum  of  the  year  301  it 
appears  as  the  prevailing  industrial  form.     Comp.  my  articles  in  the 
dit  ges.   Slaatswissenschaft. 


67.1  flr. 

"A 
Jakob 
H'ilde 


SO    (1894),    especially    pp 


4us  meinem  Handwerk 
Schnetballen,    F 
Kirschen,  p.  347. 


•erleben  (LeipziR.   1880).     C^ 


Series    (Popular  Ed  ).    pp.  12-ij. 


omp.  also  Hans- 


219-224. 


i64      A  HISTORICAL  SURyEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

he  says  in  the  preface,  "  such  as  the  cobbler,  the  tailor,  the 
weaver,  the  cooper  (in  other  places  also  the  saddler,  the 
wheelwright,  the  carpenter,  and,  in  general,  all  artisan 
builders),  are  in  many  Alpine  districts  a  sort  of  nomad  folk. 
Each  of  them  has,  indeed,  a  definite  abode  somewhere, 
either  in  his  own  little  house  or  in  the  rented  room  of  a 
peasant's  home,  where  his  family  lives,  where  he  has  safe- 
keeping for  his  possessions,  and  where  he  spends  his  Sun- 
days and  holidays.  On  Monday  morning,  however,  he  puts 
his  tools  upon  his  back  or  in  his  pocket  and  starts  out  upon 
his  rounds;  that  is,  he  goes  out  for  work  and  takes  up  his 
quarters  in  the  home  of  the  peasant  by  whom  he  has  been 
engaged,  and  there  remains  until  he  has  satisfied  the 
household  needs.  Then  he  wends  his  way  to  another  farm. 
The  handicraftsman  in  his  temporary  abode  is  looked  upon 
as  belonging  to  the  family."  Every  peasant's  house  has  a 
special  room  with  a  "  handicraftsman's  bed "  for  his 
quarters  overnight;  wherever  he  has  been  working  during 
the  week,  he  is  invited  to  Sunday  dinner. 

We  find  described  in  almost  the  same  words  the  indus- 
trial conditions  of  rural  Sweden  and  many  parts  of  Nor- 
way. In  Russia  and  the  southern  Slav  countries  there  are 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  wage-workers,  belonging  espe- 
cially to  the  building  and  clothing  trades,  who  lead  a  con- 
tinuous migratory  life  and  who,  on  account  of  the  great 
distances  travelled,  often  remain  away  from  home  half  a 
year  or  more. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  development  these  two  forms 
of  wage-work  have  different  origins.  Itinerant  labour  is 
based  upon  the  exclusive  possession  of  aptitude  for  a  spe- 
cial kind  of  work,  homework  upon  the  exchisive  posses- 
sion of  fixed  means  of  production.  Upon  this  basis  there 
now  arises  all  sorts  of  mixed  forms  between  housework 
and  wage-work. 


A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       165 

The  itinerant  labourer  is  at  first  an  experienced  neigh- 
bour whose  advice  is  sought  in  carrying  out  an  important 
piece  of  work,  the  actual  work,  however,  still  being  per- 
formed by  the  members  of  the  household.^^  ^^^^  j^j^j.  j^ 
is  long  the  practice  for  the  members  of  the  customer's 
family  to  give  the  necessary  assistance  to  the  craftsman 
and  his  journeyman;  and  this  is  still  met  with  in  the 
country,  for  example,  in  the  raising  of  a  frame  building. 

In  the  case  of  hontezvork  the  later  tradesman  is  at  first 
merely  the  owner  of  the  business  plant  and  technical 
director  of  the  production,  the  customer  doing  the  actual 
work.  This  frequently  remains  true  in  the  country  to-day 
with  oil-presses,  flax-mills,  mills  for  husking  barley  and 
oats,  and  cider-mills. 

In  many  North  German  towns  the  mediaeval  maltsters 
and  brewers  were  merely  the  owners  of  malt-kilns  and 
brewing-houses,  who  for  a  fee  gave  the  citizens  the 
opportunity  of  malting  their  own  barley  and  brewing  their 
own  beer.  In  the  flour-mills  the  customer  at  least  sup- 
plied the  handler  who  attended  to  the  sifting  of  the  meal. 
Even  to-day  it  is  customary  in  many  localities  for  the 
peasant's  wife,  after  kneading  the  dough,  to  mould  the 
bread-loaves  in  her  own  house;  the  baker  simply  places 
his  oven  at  her  disposal,  heats  it  and  attends  to  the  baking. 
In  French  and  western  Swiss  towns  the  public  washing 
places  are  managed  in  much  the  same  fashion,  merely  pro- 

"The  same  is  true  of  house-building  in  the  Caroline  Islands,  where 
the  takelbay,  or  master  builder,  is  scarcely  more  than  the  exerciser  of 
the  evil  powers  that  threaten  the  new  structure.  Sec  Kubary,  Ethnogr. 
Beitrdge,  pp.  227  ff.  The  case  is  different  with  wagon-building  in 
Armenia,  where  the  skilled  neighbour,  in  return  for  a  present,  directs 
the  putting  together  of  the  vehicle  after  the  separate  parts  have  been 
made  ready  by  the  members  of  the  household:  Tarajanz,  as  above, 
p.  27.  Similarly  with  house-building  in  Faror;  Ztschr.  d.  Ver.  f. 
Volksk..  Ill  (1893),  p.  163. 


I 

II 
■lill 


'  V 


i66      yt  HISTORJCAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

viding  their  customers  with  washing-apparatus  and  hot 
water,  and  frequently  a  drying-place  in  addition,  while  the 
work  is  done  by  the  servants  or  female  members  of  the 
customer's  household.  These  afterwards  bring  the  washed 
and  dried  linen  to  the  mangle  to  be  smoothed  out,  in  which 
process  the  owner  assists  by  working  the  handle.  Pay- 
ment is  made  by  the  hour.  In  Posen  and  West  Prussia 
until  recently  it  was  the  custom  for  the  owner  of  a  smithy 
merely  to  supply  fire,  tools,  and  iron,  leaving  the  actual 
work  to  his  customers.^' 

From  the  economic  point  of  view  the  essential  feature  of 
the  wage-work  system  is  that  there  is  no  business  capital. 
Neither  the  raw  material  nor  the  finished  industrial 
product  is  for  its  producer  ever  a  means  of  profit. 
The  character  and  extent  of  the  production  are  still  deter- 
mined in  every  case  by  the  owner  of  the  soil,  who  pro- 
duces the  raw  material;  he  also  superintends  the  whole 
process  of  production.  The  peasant  grows,  threshes,  and 
cleans  the  rye  and  then  turns  it  over  to  the  miller  to  be 
ground,  paying  him  in  kind;  the  meal  is  given  to  the 
baker,  who  delivers,  on  receipt  of  a  baker's  wage  and  in- 
demnification for  the  firing,  a  certain  number  of  loaves 
made  from  it.  From  the  sowing  of  the  seed  until  the  mo- 
ment the  bread  is  consumed  the  product  has  never  been 

"  F.rlcbnisse  ewes  Geistlichen  im  iistl.  Grensgebiet.  in  the  Tagl.  Rund- 
schau, L'nterh.  Beilage.  1879.  Mo  2S8.  A  point  of  interest  here  is 
the  supplying  of  the  iron  by  the  owner  of  the  business,  this  method 
of  carrying  on  work  thus  forming  a  transition  to  handicraft.  There 
are  also  forms  in  which  itinerancy  and  homework  are  mingled.  To 
this  class  belongs  the  Russian  migratory  tailor,  who  in  each  vil- 
lage where  he  has  customers  rents  a  room  for  a  time  and  does  work 
for  wages.  So  also,  according  to  Tarajanz,  the  silversmiths  in  Ar- 
menia. In  the  latter  country  the  owner  of  an  oil-press  has  to  provide 
his  machine,  the  necessary  uirkmen.  and  the  oxen  for  drivitig  it;  the 
customer  not  only  assists  in  the  work  himself,  but  he  pays,  and  also 
boards,  the  workmen  and  supplies  the  fodder  for  the  oxen. 


A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       167 

capital,  but  always  a  mere  article  for  use  in  course  of  prep- 
aration. No  earnings  of  management  and  interest  charges 
or  middleman's  profits  attach  to  the  finished  product,  but 
only  wages  for  work  done. 

Under  certain  social  conditions,  «nd  where  needs  are 
very  simple,  this  is  a  thoroughly  economic  method  of  pro- 
duction and,  like  housework,  secures  the  excellence  of  the 
product  and  the  complete  adjustment  of  supply  to  demand. 
It  avoids  exchange,  where  this  would  lead  only  to  a  round- 
about method  of  supplying  the  producer  of  the  raw  mate- 
rial with  wares  prepared  from  his  own  products.  But  it 
also  forces  the  consumer  to  run  the  risk  attaching  to  indus- 
trial production,  as  only  those  needs  that  can  be  foreseen 
can  find  suitable  and  prompt  satisfaction,  while  a  sudden 
need  must  often  remain  unsatisfied  because  the  wage- 
worker  happens  at  the  very  time  to  be  elsewhere  engaged. 
In  the  case  of  homework  there  is  the  additional  danger 
that  a  portion  of  the  material  furnished  may  be  embezzled 
or  changed.  The  system  has  also  many  disadvantages  for 
the  wage-worker.  Amongst  these  are  the  inconveniences 
and  loss  of  time  suffered  in  his  itinerancy  from  place  to 
place;  also  the  irregularity  of  employment,  which  leads 
now  to  the  overwork,  now  to  the  complete  idleness,  of  the 
workman.  Both  forms  of  wage-work  thus  act  satisfac- 
torily only  when  the  unoccupied  hours  can  be  turned  to 
account  in  some  allied  branch  of  agriculture. 

In  the  Middle  Ages,  when  this  could  be  done,  wage- 
work  greatly  facilitated  the  emancipation  of  the  artisan 
from  serfdom  and  feudal  obligations,  as  it  requires  prac- 
tically no  capital  to  start  an  independent  business.  It  is  a 
great  mistake  still  common  to  look  upon  the  class  of 
guild  handicraftsmen  of  the  Middle  Ages  as  a  class  of  small 
capitalists.  It  was  in  essence  rather  an  industrial  labour- 
ing class,  distinguished  from  the  labourers  of  to-day  by  the 


i68       A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

fact  that  each  worked  not  for  a  single  employer  but  for  a 
large  number  of  consumers.  The  supplying  of  the  mate- 
rial by  the  customer  is  common  to  almost  all  mediaeval 
liandicrafts;  in  many  instances,  indeed,  it  continues  for 
centuries,  even  after  the  customer  has  ceased  to  produce 
the  raw  material  himself  and  must  buy  it,  as,  for  example, 
the  leather  for  the  shoemaker  and  the  cloth  for  the  tailor. 
The  furnishing  of  the  material  by  the  master  workman  is  a 
practice  that  takes  slow  root;  at  first  it  holds  only  for  the 
poorer  customers,  but  later  for  the  wealthy  as  well.  Thus 
arises  handicraft  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  generally  under- 
stood to-day;  but  alongiide  it  wage-work  maintains 
itself  for  a  long  time,  even  entering,  in  many  cases,  into 
the  service  of  handicraft.  Thus  the  tanner  is  wage-worker 
for  the  shoemaker  and  saddler,  the  miller  for  the  baker,  the 
wool-beater,  the  dyer,  and  the  fuller  wage-workers  for  the 
cloth-maker. 

In  the  towns  itinerancy  is  the  first  of  the  two  forms 
of  wage-work  to  decline.  This  decline  is  considerably 
hastened  by  the  interference  of  the  guilds.**  The  itiner- 
ancy was  too  suggestive  of  early  villenage.  In  it  the 
workman  is,  so  to  speak,  only  a  special  kind  of  day- 
labourer,  who  must  temporarily  become  a  subordinate 
member  of  another  household.  Consequently  from  the 
fourteenth  century  on  we  find  the  guild  ordinances  fre- 
quently prohibiting  the  master  from  working  in  private 
houses.     To  the  same  cause  is  to  be  ascribed  the  hatred 


"  In  this  connection  it  may  not  be  out  of  place  to  point  out  that, 
in  the  industrial  limitation  of  those  entitled  to  the  privilcRes  of  the 
guild,  the  old  housework  was  at  the  same  time  aflfected.  In  very  many 
of  the  guild  ordinances  we  find  the  regulation  that  the  non-guildsman 
may  do  handicraftsman's  work,  but  only  in  so  far  as  the  needs  of  his 
household  demand,  not  for  purposes  of  sale.  The  surplus  house  pro- 
duction for  the  market  described  above  (pp.  i6o,  i6l)  was  thereby 
made  impossible. 


A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       169 

displayed  by  the  town  craftsmen  towards  those  of  the 
country,  because  the  migratory  labour  of  the  latter  could 
not  well  be  forbidden.  Eventually  itinerant  or  botcher^'" 
becomes  a  general  term  of  contempt  for  those  who  work 
without  regular  credentials  from  the  guilds.  In  the  North 
German  towns  the  guild  masters  claimed  the  right  of  en- 
tering the  houses  of  their  customers  to  ferret  out  the  itiner- 
ant artisans  and  call  them  to  account, — the  so-called 
"  botcherhunt ";  and  the  public  authorities  were  often 
weak  enough  to  wink  at  this  breach  of  the  domestic  rights 
of  the  citizen. 

But  the  guilds  did  not  everywhere  have  such  an  easy 
task  in  supplanting  one  industrial  system  by  another.  As 
early  as  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century  the  sovereign 
authority  in  the  Austrian  duchy  takes  vigorous  measures 
against  them.  In  the  statutes  of  the  electorate  of  Saxony 
for  the  year  1482  shoemakers,  tailors,  furriers,  joiners, 
glaziers,  and  other  handicraftsmen  who  shall  refuse  with- 
out sufficient  reason  to  work  in  the  house  of  their  cus- 
tomer are  made  liable  to  a  fine  of  three  florins,  a  high  sum 
for  those  times.  In  Basel  a  definite  statute  governing 
house  tailors  was  enacted  in  1526  for  the  maintenance  of 
"  ancient  and  honourable  customs."  In  many  German  ter- 
ritories definite  ordinances  were  made  regulating  the 
charges  of  the  various  kinds  of  wage-workers.  Thus  in 
many  crafts,  especially  in  the  building  trade,  wage-work 
has  persisted  down  to  the  present  time. 

In  the  majority,  however,  its  place  has  been  taken  by 
the  industrial  system  that  to-day  is  customarily  desig- 
nated handicraft,  whose  nature  we  have  indicated  at  the 
beginning  of  the  present*  chapter.  It  might  also  be  called 
pricc-zvork,^^  which  would  mark  the  contrast  with  wage- 

"  Bonhast. 
"  Prciswerk. 


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170      y4  HISTORIC/IL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRJylL  SYSTEMS. 

work.  For  the  handicraftsman  is  distinguished  from  the 
wage-worker  only  by  the  fact  that  he  possesses  all  the 
means  of  production,  and  sells  for  a  definite  price  the  fin- 
ished article  which  is  the  product  of  his  own  raw  material 
and  his  own  incorporated  labour,  while  the  wage-worker 
merely  receives  a  recompense  for  his  labour. 

All  the  important  characteristics  of  handicraft  may  be 
summed  up  in  the  single  expression  custom  production.  It 
is  the  method  of  sale  that  distinguishes  this  industrial  sys- 
tem from  all  later  ones.  The  handicraftsman  always  works 
for  the  consumer  of  his  product  whether  it  be  that  the 
latter  by  placing  separate  orders  affords  the  occasion  for 
the  work,  or  that  the  two  meet  at  the  weekly  or  yearly 
market.  Ordered  work  and  work  for  the  market  must 
supplement  each  other  if  "  dull  times  "  are  to  be  avoided. 
As  a  rule  the  region  of  sale  is  local,  namely,  the  town  and 
its  more  immediate  neighbourhood.  The  customer  buys 
at  first  hand,  the  handicraftsman  sells  to  the  actual  con- 
sumer. This  assures  a  proper  adjustment  of  supply  and 
demand  and  introduces  an  ethical  feature  into  the  whole 
relationship;  the  producer  in  the  presence  of  the  con- 
sumer feels  responsibility  for  his  work. 

With  the  rise  of  handicraft  a  wide  cleft,  so  to  speak, 
appears  in  the  economic  process  of  production.  Hitherto 
the  owner  of  the  land,  though  perhaps  calling  in  the  aid 
of  other  wage-workers,  had  conducted  this  whole  process; 
now  there  are  two  classes  of  economic  activity,  each  of 
which  embraces  only  a  part  of  the  process  of  production, 
one  producing  the  raw  material,  the  other  the  manu- 
factured article.  It  is  a  principle  that  handicraft  endeav- 
oured to  carry  out  wherever  possible — an  article  should 
pass  through  all  the  stages  of  its  f)reparation  in  the  same 
workshop.  In  this  way  the  needed  capital  is  diminished 
and  frecjuent  additions  of  profit  to  price  avoided.     Bv  the 


A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       171 


acquisition  of  an  independent  business  capital  the  artisan 
class  is  changed  from  a  mere  wage-earning  class  of  labour- 
ers into  a  capitalistic  producing  class;  and  the  movable 
property  now,  dissociated  from  land-ownership,  accumu- 
lates in  its  hands  and  becomes  the  basis  of  an  independent 
social  and  political  reputability  which  is  embodied  in  the 
burgher  class. 

The  direct  relationship  between  the  handicraftsman  and 
the  consumer  of  his  products  makes  it  necessary  that  the 
business  remain  small.  Whenever  any  one  line  of  handi- 
craft threatens  to  become  too  large,  new  handicrafts  split 
off  from  it  and  appropriate  part  of  its  sphere  of  produc- 
tion. This  is  the  medieval  division  of  labour,'^  which  con- 
tinually creates  new  and  independent  trades  and  which  led 
later  to  that  jealous  delimitation  of  the  spheres  of  work 
that  caused  a  large  portion  of  the  energy  of  the  guild 
system  to  be  consumed  in  internal  bickerings. 

Handicraft  is  a  phenomenon  peculiar  to  the  town.  Peo- 
ples which,  like  the  Russians,  have  developed  no  real  town 
life,  know  likewise  no  national  handicraft.  And  tlis  also 
explains  why,  with  the  formation  of  large  centralized 
States  and  unified  commercial  territories,  handicraft  was 
doomed  to  decline.  In  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries  there  was  developed  a  new  industrial  system, 
based  no  longer  on  the  local  but  on  the  national  and  inter- 
national market.  Our  ancestors  have  denoted  this  sys- 
tem by  the  two  names  manufactories  and  factories,  without 
distinguishing  between  the  two  terms.  When  viewed 
more  closely  these  are  seen  to  indicate  two  quite  distinct 
industrial  systems.  The  one  hitherto  characterized  by  the 
misleading  phrase  house  industry  we  prefer  to  call  the  com- 

"  For  details  sec  my  work,  Pit  Bnolkerung  von  Frankfurt  a.  M  im 
Xir.  und  AT.  Jahrhundcrt,  I.  p.  jj8.  Compare  also  Chapters  III  .ind 
VIII. 


172      A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

mission  systcm,^^  the  other  is  our  factory  system.  Both 
systems  undertake  the  work  of  supplying  a  wide  market 
with  industrial  products,  and  both  require  for  this  purpose 
a  large  number  of  labourers;  they  diflfer  only  in  the  man- 
ner in  which  they  accomplish  the  work  and  organize  the 
labourers. 

In  this  respect  the  method  of  the  commission  system 
is  the  simplest.  In  the  first  place,  it  leaves  the  exist- 
ing method  of  production  quite  undisturbed  and  confines 
itself  to  organizing  the  market.  The  business  undertaker 
is  a  commercial  entrepreneur  who  regularly  employs  a 
large  number  of  labourers  in  their  own  homes,  away  from 
his  place  of  business.  These  labourers  are  either  former 
handicraftsmen  who  now  produce  for  a  single  tradesman 
instead  of  for  a  number  of  consumers,  or  former  wage- 
workers  who  now  receive  their  raw  material,  not  from  the 
consumer,  but  from  the  merchant;  or,  finally,  they  are 
peasant  families,  the  former  products  of  whose  domestic 
work  are  now  produced  as  market  wares  and  by  the  en- 
trepreneur introduced  into  the  markets  of  the  world. 

In  some  cases  the  entrepreneur  advances  *®  to  the  small 
producers,  who  at  first  enjoy  a  fairly  independent  position, 
the  purchase  price  of  their  products;  in  some  cases  he  fur- 
nishes them  with  the  raw  material,  and  then  pays  piece- 
work wage;  while  in  others  he  owns  even  the  principal 
machinery,  such  as  the  weaver's  loom,  the  embroidering 
machine,  etc.  As  the  small  producers  have  only  the  one 
customer  they  graduall\  sink  into  ever-greater  depend- 
ence. The  entrepreneur  becomes  their  employer,  and  they 
are  employees,  even  when  they  supply  the  raw  material 
themselves. 

It    is    scarcely    necessary    fo    describe    in    detail    the 


"I'crlag. 

"  1  crlcgcr  cunies  from  I  crlag,  i.e.  supplying  or  advancing. 


A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       173 

commission  system  and  its  contingent  method  of  work, 
house  industry.  We  have  plenty  of  examples  in  tho  moun- 
tain districts  of  Germany,  for  instance,  the  straw-plating 
and  the  clock  and  brush  industries  in  the  Black  Forest,  the 
wood-carving  of  Upper  Bavaria,  the  toy  manufacture  in 
the  Meiningen  Oberland,the  embroidery  of  the  Voigtland, 
the  lace-making  of  the  Erzgebirge,  etc.  The  history  and 
present  condition  of  these  industries  have  been  fairly  well 
investigated  in  recent  times.  But  we  can  no  more  enter 
into  them  than  into  the  great  variety  of  phases  presented 
by  this  form  of  industry. 

The  essential  feature  is  ever  the  transformation  of  the 
industrial  product,  before  it  reaches  the  consumer,  into 
capital — that  is,  into  ?  means  of  acquisition  for  one  or  more 
intermediary  merchants.  Whether  the  entrepreneur  place 
the  product  on  the  general  market,  or  keep  a  town  ware- 
room  from  which  to  sell  it ;  whether  he  receive  the  wares 
from  the  houseworker  ready  for  sale,  or  himself  subject 
them  to  a  last  finishing  process;  whether  the  workman  call 
himself  master  and  keep  journeymen,  or  whether  he  be  a 
tiller  of  the  soil  as  well — the  house  workman  is  always  far 
removed  from  the  real  market  of  his  product  and  from  a 
knowledge  of  market  conditions,  and  therein  lies  the  chief 
cause  of  his  hopeless  weakness. 

If  under  the  connnission  system  capital  has  merely  as- 
sumed control  of  the  marketing  of  the  products,  under  the 
factory  system  it  grasi)s  the  whole  process  of  production. 
The  former  system,  in  order  to  accomplish  the  productive 
task  fallii  /  to  it,  draws  loosely  together  a  large  number  of 
liomogeneous  labourers,  imparts  to  their  production  a  defi- 
nite direction,  approximately  the  same  for  each,  and 
causes  the  product  of  their  labour  to  flow,  as  it  were,  into 
a  great  reservoir  before  distributing  it  in  all  directions. 
The  factory  system  organizes  the  whole  process  of  pro- 


174      A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 


I  4 


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duction;  it  unites  various  kinds  of  workers,  by  mutual 
relations  of  control  and  subjection,  into  a  compact  and 
well-disciplined  body,  brings  them  together  in  a  special 
business  establishment,  provides  them  with  an  extensive 
and  complex  outfit  of  the  machinery  of  production,  and 
thereby  immensely  increases  their  productive  power.  The 
factory  system  is  as  distinguishable  from  the  commission 
system  as  the  well-organized,  uniformly  equipped  regular 
army  from  the  motley  volunteer  militia. 

Just  as  in  an  army  corps  ready  for  battle,  troops  of 
varied  training  and  accoutrement — infantry,  cavalry,  and 
artillery  regiments,  pioneers,  engineers,  ammunition  col- 
uirins  and  commissariat  are  welded  into  one,  so  under  the 
factory  system  groups  of  workers  of  varied  skill  and  equip- 
ment are  united  together  and  enabled  to  accomplish  the 
most  difficult  tasks  of  production. 

The  secret  of  the  factory's  strength  as  an  institution 
for  production  thus  lies  in  the  effective  utilisation  of  labour. 
In  order  to  accomplish  this  it  takes  a  peculiar  road,  which 
at  first  sight  appears  circuitous.  It  divides  as  far  as  pos- 
sible all  the  work  necessary  to  a  process  of  production  into 
its  simplest  elements,  separates  the  difficult  from  the  easy, 
the  mechanical  from  the  intellectual,  the  skilled  from  the 
rude.  It  thus  arrives  at  a  system  of  successive  functions, 
and  is  enabled  to  employ  simultaneously  and  successively 
human  powers  of  the  most  varied  kind — trained  and  un- 
trained men,  women  and  children,  workers  with  the  hand 
and  head,  workers  possessing  technical,  artistic  and  com- 
mercial skill.  The  restriction  of  each  individual  to  a  small 
section  of  the  labouring  process  effects  a  mighty  increase 
in  the  volume  of  work  turned  out.  A  hundred  workmen 
in  a  factory  accomplish  in  a  given  process  of  production 
more  than  a  hundred  independent  master  craftsmen,  al- 
though ench  of  the  latter  understands  the  whole  process, 


A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       I7S 


while  none  of  the  former  understands  more  than  a  small 
portion  of  it.  As  far  as  the  struggle  between  handicraft 
and  factory  is  fought  out  on  the  ground  of  technical  skill, 
it  is  an  evidence  how  the  weak  overcome  the  strong  when 
guided  by  superior  intellectual  power. 

The  machine  is  not  the  essential  feature  of  the  factory, 
although  the  subdivision  of  zvork  just  described  has,  by 
breaking  up  the  sum  of  labour  into  simple  movements,  end- 
lessly assisted  and  multiplied  the  appHcation  of  machinery. 
From  early  times  machines  for  performing  tasks  and  for 
furnishing  power  have  been  employed  in  industry.  In 
connection  with  the  factory,  however,  their  application 
attained  its  present  importance  only  when  men  succeeded 
in  securing  a  motive  power  that  would  work  unintermit- 
tently,  uniformly  and  ubiquitously,  namely,  steam;  and 
even  here  its  full  importance  is  felt  only  in  connection 
with  the  peculiar  industrial  form  of  factory  manufacture. 

An  example  will  serve  to  illustrate  what  has  just  been 
said.  In  the  year  1787  the  canton  of  Zurich  had  34,000 
male  and  female  hand-spinners  producing  cotton  yarn. 
After  the  introduction  of  the  English  spinning-machines 
a  few  factories  produced  an  equal  or  greater  quantity  of 
thread,  and  the  number  of  their  workers  (chiefly  women 
and  children)  fell  to  scarcely  a  third  of  what  it  had  been 
before.  What  is  the  explanation?  The  machines?  But 
was  not  the  then-existing  spinning-wheel  a  machine?  Cer- 
tainly it  was;  and,  moreover,  a  very  ingenious  one.  Ma- 
chine was  thus  ousted  by  machine.  Or  better,  what  had 
hitherto  been  done  by  the  woman  hand-spinner  with  her 
wheel  was  now  done  by  successive  collaboration  of  a  whole 
series  of  various  kinds  of  workers  and  machines.  The 
entire  spinning  process  had  been  decomjiosed  into  its  sim- 
plest elements,  and  perfectly  new  operations  had  arisen  for 
which  even  immature  powers  could  in  part  be  utilized. 


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176       ^  HISTORICAL  SURyEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

In  the  suI)division  of  work  originate  these  further  pc- 
cuHarities  of  factory  production — the  necessity  of  manu- 
facture on  a  large  scale,  the  requirement  of  a  large  capital, 
and  the  economic  dependence  of  the  workman. 

With  regard  to  the  two  last  points  we  easily  perceive 
an  important  difference  between  the  factory  and  the  com- 
mission system.     Its  large  fixed  capital  assures  to  factory 
work  greater  steadiness  in  production.     Under  the  com- 
mission system  the  house-workers  can  at  any  moment  be 
deprived  of  employment  without  the  entrepreneur  running 
any  risk  of  losing  capital;  but  the  manufacturer  must  in 
like  case  go  on  producing,  because  he  fears  loss  of  inter- 
est and  shrinkage  in  the  value  of  his  fixed  capital,  and 
because  he  cannot  afiford  to  lose  his  trained  body  of  work- 
men.   This  is  the  reason  why  it  is  probable  that  the  com- 
mission system  will  long  maintain  itself  alongside  factory 
production  in  those  branches  of  industry  in  which   the 
demand  is  liable  to  sudden  change,  and  in  which  the  articles 
produced  are  of  great  variety. 

If,  in  conclusion,  we  were  briefly  to  characterize  these 
five  industrial  systems,  we  might  say  that  housework  is 
production  for  one's  own  needs,  wage-work  is  custom 
work,  handicraft  is  custom  production,  commission  work 
is  decentralized,  and  factory  labour  centralized  production 
of  wares.  As  no  economic  phenomenon  stands  iso- 
lated, each  of  these  systems  of  industry  is  at  the  same  time 
but  a  section  of  a  great  economic  and  social  order.  House- 
work is  the  transformation  of  materials  in  the  autonomous 
household  economy;  wage-work  belongs  to  the  period  of 
transition  from  independent  household  economy  to  town 
economy:  the  hey-day  of  handicraft  coincides  with  the 
period  when  town  economy  reached  its  full  development; 
the  commission  system  is  a  connecting  link  between  town 
economy  and  national  economy  (independent  State  econ- 


A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       177 


omy),  and  the  factory  system  is  the  industrial  system  of 
fully  developed  national  economy. 

It  would  lead  us  too  far  to  explain  in  this  chapter  how 
each  industrial  system  fits  organically  into  the  contem- 
porary method  of  production  and  how  it  is  mutually  deter- 
mined by  a  series  of  allied  phenomena  in  the  spheres  of 
agriculture,  personal  services,  trade  and  transportation.  It 
can  scarcely  escape  the  observant  eye  that  all  the  elements 
of  the  evolution  here  broadly  sketched  are  contained  in  the 
primitive  cell  of  society,  the  family;  or,  in  economic  phrase, 
in  the  conditions  of  production  in  the  independent  house- 
hold. From  this  primitive  social  unit,  teeming  with  life  and 
swallowing  up  all  individual  existence,  parts  have  continu- 
ally detached  themselves  through  differentiation  and  in- 
tegration,and  become  more  and  more  independent.  Wage- 
work  is  only  a  sprout  from  the  root  of  the  tree  of  independ- 
ent household  economy;  handicraft  still  needs  its  protec- 
tion in  order  to  flourish;  commission  work  makes  the  mar- 
keting of  products  a  special  business,  while  production 
sinks  back  almost  to  the  first  stages  of  development.  Fac- 
tory manufacture,  on  the  other  hand,  permeates  with  the 
entrepreneur  principle  the  whole  process  of  production; 
it  is  an  independent  economic  system  freed  from  all  ele- 
ments of  consumption,  and  separated  as  regards  commod- 
ities and  locality  from  the  household  life  of  those  engaged 
in  it. 

The  position  of  the  worker  changes  in  a  similar  way. 
With  the  commencement  of  wage-work  the  industrial 
worker  separates  himself  personally  from  the  independent 
household  economy  of  the  landed  proprietor;  with  the 
transition  to  handicraft  he  also  becomes,  through  the  elim- 
ination of  business  capital,  materially  free  and  independent. 
Through  the  commission  system  he  enters  into  a  fresh  per- 
sonal subjection,  he  falls  into  dependence  upon  the  capi- 


Il 


f  1 


178      A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

talistic  entrepreneur;  under  the  factory  system  he  becomes 
also  materially  dependent  upon  him.  By  four  stages  of 
evolution  he  passes  from  manorial  servitude  to  factory 
servitude. 

There  is  a  sort  of  parallelism  in  this  evolution.  The  re- 
lation between  the  unfree  houseworker  and  the  ancient 
landowner  bears  a  certain  resemblance  to  the  relation  be- 
tween the  factory  hand  and  the  modern  manufacturer;  and 
the  wage-worker  occupies  much  the  same  position  with 
regard  to  the  economy  of  the  landed  proprietor  that  the 
worker  engaged  in  house  industry  does  to  the  entrepreneur 
giving  out  commission  work.  In  the  middle  of  this  ascend- 
ing and  descending  series  stands  handicraft  as  its  founda- 
tion and  comer-stone.  From  housework  to  handicraft  we 
see  the  gradual  emancipation  of  the  worker  from  the  soil 
and  the  formation  of  capital;  from  handicraft  to  the  factory 
system  a  gradual  separation  of  capital  from  work,  and  the 
subjection  of  the  worker  to  capital. 

At  the  stage  of  housework  capital  has  not  yet  emerged; 
there  are  only  consumption  goods  at  various  stages  of 
ripeness.  Everything  belongs  to  the  household— raw  ma- 
terial, tools,  the  manufactured  article,  often  the  worker 
himself.  In  the  case  of  wage-work  the  tools  are  the  only 
capital  in  the  hands  of  the  worker;  the  raw  and  auxiliary 
materials  are  household  stores  not  yet  ready  for  consump- 
tion; the  work-place  belongs,  under  the  system  of  migra- 
tory labour,  to  the  domestic  establishment  that  is  to  con- 
sume the  finished  product,  or,  under  the  housework  sys- 
tem, to  the  worker  who  produces  the  article.  In  the  case 
of  handicraft  the  tools,  worl.-place,  and  raw  material  are 
capital  in  the  possession  of  the  worker;  the  latter  is  master 
of  the  product,  though  he  invariably  sells  it  to  the  imme- 
diate consumer.  In  the  commission  system  the  product 
also  becomes  capital— not  the  capital  of  the  worker,  how- 


A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OS  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       179 


ever,  but  of  quite  a  new  figure  on  the  scene,  the  commercial 
entrepreneur;  the  worker  either  retains  all  his  means  of 
production,  or  he  loses  possession  successively  of  his  goods, 
capilal,  and  his  implements  of  production.  Thus  all  the 
elements  of  capital  finally  unite  in  the  hand  of  the  manu- 
facturer, and  serve  him  as  a  foundation  for  the  reorganiza- 
tion of  industrial  production.  In  his  hands  even  the 
worker's  share  in  the  product  becomes  a  part  of  the  busi- 
ness capital. 

This  share  of  the  worker  consists,  at  the  stage  of  house- 
work, in  a  participation  in  the  consumption  of  the  finished 
products;  in  the  case  of  wage-work  it  consists  in  board, 
together  with  a  time-  or  piece-work  wage,  which  even  at 
this  point  includes  compensation  for  wear  and  tear  of  tools; 
in  handicraft  it  consists  in  the  full  returns  from  production. 
Under  the  commission  system  the  commercial  undertaker 
takes  away  a  portion  of  the  latter  as  profit  on  his  business 
capital;  under  the  factory  system  all  the  elements  of  pro- 
duction which  can  be  turned  into  capital  become  crystal- 
lizing centres  for  further  profits  on  capital,  while  for  the 
worker  there  remains  only  the  stipulated  wage. 

We  must  not,  however,  imagine  the  historical  evolution 
of  the  industrial  system  to  have  been  such  that  each  new 
industrial  method  absolutely  superseded  its  predecessor. 
That  would  be  just  as  far  astray  as.  for  example,  to  suppose 
that  a  new  means  of  communication  supplants  those 
already  existing.  Railways  have  done  away  neither  with 
conveyances  on  the  highways,  nor  with  transportation  by 
means  of  ships,  pack-animals  or  the  human  back;  they 
have  only  confined  each  of  these  older  methods  of  trans- 
portation to  the  field  in  which  it  can  best  develop  its  pe- 
culiar advantages:  it  is  probable  that  not  only  abso- 
lutely but  relatively  more  horses  and  men  are  employed  in 


I  So       /I  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 


I-  ' 


the  work  of  transportation  in  our  civilized  countries  to-day 
than  there  were  in  the  year  1830. 

The  very  same  causes  that  have  produced  such  an  enor- 
mous increase  in  traffic  are  also  at  work  in  the  sphere  of 
industry;  and  in  spite  of  the  continual  improvement  of  the 
mechanical  means  of  production  they  demand  an  ever-in- 
creasing number  of  persons.  From  two  quarters,  how- 
ev^r,  the  sphere  of  productive  industry  is  constantly  re- 
ceiving accessions;  first,  from  the  old  household  economy 
and  agriculture,  from  which  even  to-day  parts  are  always 
separating  themselves  and  becoming  independent  branches 
of  industry;  secondly,  from  the  continual  improvement  ^^ 
and  increase  in  range  of  articles  serving  for  the  satisfac- 
tion of  our  wants. 

As  regards  the  first  point,  there  have  sprung  up  in  the 
industrial  world  during  the  last  generation  dozens  of  new 
trades  for  takiig  over  such  kinds  of  work  as  >..  •  J  formerly 
to  fall  to  the  women  of  the  household  or  to  the  servants, 
such  as  vegetable  and  fruit  preserving,  fancy  baking  and 
preparation  of  meats,  making  and  mending  women's  and 
children's  clothes,  cleaning  windows,  feather  beds  and  cur- 
tains, chemical  cleaning  and  dyeing,  painting  and  polishing 
floors,  gas  and  water  installation,  etc.  Under  the  heading 
"Art  and  Market  Gardening,"  the  latest  statistics  of  trades 
in  the  German  Empire  give  thirty-five,  and  under  the  head- 
ing "  Stock-raising,"  thirty-one,  independent  occupations, 
many  of  which  are  of  very  recent  origin. 

With  regard  to  the  second  point,  we  will  mention  only 
the  bicycle  industry,  which  within  a  short  time  has  not  only 

'°  In  reply  to  a  criticism  of  this  expression  in  the  Revue  d'economie 
politique  (or  November,  i8q2  (p.  1228,  note),  we  will  not  omit  making 
it  more  definite  by  saying  that  we  do  not  mean  by  it  the  improvement 
of  the  quality  of  already  existing  species  of  goods,  but  the  supplant- 
ing of  existing  poods  by  others  which  better  and  more  cheaply  supply 
thv  demand, 


A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 


i8i 


necessitated  the  erection  of  a  great  number  of  factories, 
but  has  already  given  rise  to  special  repair-shops  and  sep- 
arate establishments  for  the  manufacture  of  rubber  tires, 
cyclometers  and  bicycle  spokes.    A  still  more  striking  ex- 
ample is  afforded  by  the  application  of  electricity.     In  the 
industrial  census  of  1895  there  are  enumerated  names  of 
twenty-two  electrical  occupations  that  did  not  exist  in  1882. 
The  production  of  electrical  machines,  apparatus  and  plant 
in  the  German  Empire  gave  employment  in  1895  to  14-494 
persons,  with  18.449  members  of  their  families  and  serv- 
ants—thus furnishing  a  hving  for  nearly  33,000  persons." 
In  metal-work,  in  the  manufacture  of  machinery,  chemicals, 
paper,  in  the  building  industries,  the  clothing  and  cleaning 
industries  the  number  of  recorded  occupations  more  than 
doubled  itself  between  1882  and  1895.     It  is,  at  the  same 
time,  to  be  remembered  not  only  that  specialization  has 
made  immense  strides,  but  that  in  many  instances  subsid- 
iary articles  of  production  and  trade  which  have  hitherto 
been  produced  by  the  businesses  using  them  are  the  ob- 
jects of  separate  enterprises.     In  these  fields  industry  not 
only  meets  demand  but  frequently  outruns  it,  as  has  at  all 
times  been  the  case.    In  the  patent  lists  %xe  find  significant 
expression  of  this  effort  to  improve  the  world  of  com- 
modities; and  though  many  of  the  new  inventions  prove 
deficient  in  vitality,  there  always  remains  a  considerable 
number  whereby  life  is  permanently  enriched. 

"In  a  report  appearing  in  the  newspapers  of  August.  1900  Dr.  R. 
Burner  estimates  the  total  capital  of  German  firms  manufacturing 
electr.cal  apparatus,  in  round  numbers,  at  800  million  marks  ^200 
million  dollars),  and  the  stock  of  the  so-called  finanaal  corpora  wns 
which- are  taken  up  with  the  laymg  of  electric  car  lines  and  works^  at 
450  million  marks  (.12  million  dollars).  The  electr.c  Imes,  electric 
works  and  block  stations  in  Germany  are  credited,  in  round  numbers, 
with  I  250  million  marks  (312  million  dollars).  So  that  the  whole 
electrical  plant  of  Germany  represents  a  capital  of  about  two  and  a 
half  milliards  oi  marks  (b-'3  million  dollars). 


l82       A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 


<R        ''I 


IS 


Si 


m 


If  we  were  able  statistically  to  bring  together  the  whole 
sum  of  industrial  products  produced  yearly  in  Germany  in 
such  a  way  that  we  could  separate  the  output  of  factories, 
of  house  ir.dustry,  and  of  handicraft,  wage-work  and 
housework,  we  should  without  doubt  find  that  the 
greater  part  of  the  factory  wares  embraces  goods  which 
were  never  produced  under  any  of  the  other  industrial  sys- 
tems, and  that  handicraft  produces  to-day  an  absolutely 
greater  quantity  than  ever  before.  The  commission  and 
faciory  systems,  it  is  true,  have  completely  absorbed  some 
of  the  lesser  handicrafts  and  robbed  many  others  of  por- 
tions of  their  sphere  of  production.  But  all  the  great  guild 
handicrafts  that  existed  at  the  close  of  the  iHth  century, 
with  perhaps  the  single  exception  of  weaving,  ill  exist 
to-day.  Handicraft  is  constantly  being  displaced  by  the 
more  perfect  industrial  systems,  just  as  in  mediaeval  times 
housework  and  wage-work  were  ousted  by  h"  iidicraft, 
only  now  it  occurs  in  a  less  violent  manner,  on  the  field  of 
free  competition.  This  competition  of  all  with  all,  sup- 
ported as  it  is  by  a  perfected  system  of  transf)ortation  and 
communication,  often  compels  the  transition  from  custom 
to  wholesale  production,  even  where  from  the  technical 
standpoint  the  former  might  still  have  been  possible. 
Many  independent  master  workmen  enter  the  service  of 
the  entrepreneur  carrying  on  commission  or  factory  work 
just  as  their  predecessors  a  thousand  years  ago  became 
manorial  labourers. 

Handicraft  has  thus  been  relegated  economically  and  so- 
cially to  a  secondary  position.  But  even  if  it  will  no  longer 
flourish  in  the  large  towns,  it  has  in  compensation  spread 
all  the  more  in  the  country,  and  here  called  forth,  in  com- 
bination with  agriculture,  numerous  industries  upon  which 
the  eye  of  the  philanthropist  can  rest  with  delight.  Handi- 
craft, it  mav  1)0  said  with  certaintv,  will  no  more  disappear 


A  HISTORICAL  SURREY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS.       183 


than  wage-work  and  housework  have  disappeared.  What 
it  has  won  for  society  in  a  time  of  universal  feudalization, 
namely,  a  robust  class  of  people  independent  of  landed 
property,  whose  existence  is  based  upon  personal  worth 
and  a  small  amount  of  movables,  and  who  are  a  repository 
of  popular  morality  and  upr-  ;htness — that  will  and  must 
remain  a  lasting  possession,  even  though  the  existence  of 
those  whom  these  virtues  will  in  future  adorn  may  rest 
upon  a  different  basis. 

In  recent  times  there  has  been  raised  with  rare  persist- 
ence a  cry  for  the  uprooting  of  the  older  industry.  Handi- 
craft, house  industry,  in  general  all  forms  of  work  on  a 
small  scale  are,  we  are  told,  a  drag  upon  the  national  pro- 
ductive power;  they  are  "antiquated,  superseded,  rude,  not 
to  say  socially  impeditive  methods  of  production,"  which 
in  the  best  interests  of  those  who  follow  them  must  be  re- 
placed by  a  "  rational  and  judicious  organization  and  regu- 
lation of  human  activities  on  a  large  scale,"  if  the  actual 
national  production  is  not  to  lag  far  behind  what  is  tech- 
nically possible. 

This  short-sighted  economico-political  theorizing  is  not 
new.  There  was  once  a  time  when  every  peasant  shoe- 
maker who  raised  his  own  potatoes  and  cabbage  was 
looked  upon  as  a  sort  of  enemy  to  the  highest  possible  na- 
tional wealth,  and  when  people  would  have  liked  to  force 
him  by  police  regulation  to  stick  to  his  last,  even  though  at 
the  same  time  he  ran  the  risk  of  starving.  Truly,  it  has  al- 
ways been  much  easier  to  censure  than  to  understand. 

If.  instead  of  such  dogmatic  pronouncements,  a  willing- 
ness had  been  shown  to  make  an  unbiassed  investigation  of 
the  conditions  governing  those  older  and  supposedly  an- 
tiquated systems  of  production,  the  conviction  would  soon 
have  arisen  that  in  the  majority  of  cases  where  they  still 
persist  they  arc  economically  and  socially  justifiable;  and 


»84      A  HISTORICAL  SURVEY  OF  INDUSTRIAL  SYSTEMS. 

the  means  for  the  removal  of  the  existing-  evils  would  be 
sought  in  the  soil  in  which  these  industrial  forms  are  rooted 
instead  of  such  drastic  remedies  being  applied  to  them. 
In  this  way  we  should  undoubtedly  preserve  the  good  of 
each  of  these  individual  systems  and  be  striving  only  to  re- 
move their  disadvantages. 

For,  after  all,  the  comforting  result  of  every  serious  con- 
sideration of  history  is.  that  no  single  element  of  culture 
which  has  once  entered  into  the  life  of  men  is  lost;  that 
even  after  the  hour  of  its  predominance  has  expired,  it 
continues  in  some  more  modest  position  to  cooperate  in 
the  realization  of  the  great  end  in  which  we  all  believe,  the 
helping  of  mankind  towards  more  and  more  perfect  forms 
of  existence. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 

There  are  in  Germany  two  handicraft  problems.  One 
is  a  problem  belonging  to  the  newspapers  and  the  legisla- 
tures, which  since  1848  has  repeatedly  occupied  the  liveliest 
public  attention.  For  it  the  question  is  the  extent  to  which 
the  particular  interests  of  hand-workers  as  a  class  should  be 
given  legislative  expression.  What  the  answer  shall  be 
depends  upon  the  relative  strength  of  political  parties. 

The  other  problem  relates  to  the  vitality  of  hand-work 
as  a  form  of  industrial  activity.  It  is  the  query  of  Ham- 
let's soliloquy:  "  To  be  or  not  to  be! "  The  answer  de- 
pends upon  actual  conditions.  Stated  more  explicitly,  the 
question  would  read:  How  far  has  hand-work  up  to  the 
present  shown  itself  capable  of  holding  its  own?  What  de- 
partment of  industry  does  it  still  dominate? 

So  long  as  public  policy  weighs,  not  merely  wishes  and 
votes,  but  also  the  facts  of  the  case,  it  will  not  venture  to 
decide  the  first  of  these  questions  until  the  second  has  been 
answered.  Until  lately  the  necessary  established  data 
have  been  lacking.  Recently,  however,  the  German  Social 
Science  Club  has  conducted  a  most  comprehensive  investi- 
gation into  those  branches  of  industry  belonging  to  the  old 
class  of  handicrafts.'     It  is  therefore  opportune  to  give  a 

'  Investieations  as  to  the   Condition   of   Hnnd.jork   m   Germany,   tvith 
sptcial  Reference  to  its  Ability  to  compete  u-ith  industrial  Undertakings  on 
a  Inrf  '^'c'e    in  S>hr.ft<!i  d,'^  V.r(in>;  fur  Sozialpolitik.  Vols.  62-70 
" 185 


l'-' 


it 


Ji 


:.i,ait 


1 86 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


general  survey  of  the  findings.  In  this  it  is  not  our  inten- 
tion to  enter  upon  a  discussion  of  the  p.  >'--it  position  and 
future  prospects  of  particular  industrial  tranches,*  but 
rather  to  present  the  common  characteristics  of  the  de- 
velopment that  has  taken  place  during  the  past  hundred 
years  or  more.  This  will  make  it  possible  to  appreciate  in 
their  full  strength  and  manifold  modes  of  operation  the 
forces  in  modem  national  economy  that  act  as  solvents  and 
as  creative  agents. 

A  century  ago  handicraft  still  held  undisputed  sway  over 
all  its  mediaeval  inheritance  and  over  its  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  century  conquests  as  well.  There  existed  be- 
sides, it  is  true,  a  few  manufactories  and  factories.  But  they 
had  developed  apart  from  hand-work;  what  they  produced 
had  never  been  handicraft  work.  Rivalry  between  these 
new  forms  of  industry  and  the  guild  hand-work  there  had 
never  been.  Nor  had  the  guilds  as  such  been  interfered 
with  by  the  State;  they  had  only  been  made  amenable 
to  its  laws,  and  thus  been  in  part  stripped  of  their  local 
municipal  character.  Their  scope  indeed  had  been  ex- 
tended, in  that  those  handicrafts  were  subjected  to  the 
guild  constitution,  which,  because  of  the  limited  number  of 
their  representatives,  had  not  as  yet  been  able  to  form 
local  guilds  in  the  various  towns.  Through  the  territorial 
guilds,  i  1  had  been  constituted  for  these  "minor  handi- 
crafts," aiid  through  the  "  general  guild  articles  "  com- 
pactly summarizing  uniform  trade  regulations  for  all  local 
guilds,  the  requirements  of  modern  national  economy  had 

(Ltip^iR,  1804-1807).  A  further  volume  (Vol  71)  relates  to  Austria. 
SupplcTTientinK  this  is  the  inquiry  into  the  conditions  of  handwork, 
undertaken  in  the  summer  of  1805.  and  edited  by  the  Imperial  Statis- 
tics lUire.iu  (.(  niiiTiber<=,   Rtrlin.   iSg:^. 

'The  results  of  the  itivestiRations  of  FI.  Grandke  alon^  this  line  are 
presentiil  In  Sclimoller's  Jalirbuch  I'ur  GesetZKe''.  V'erwa't.  u,  Volksw., 
Vol.  XXI  Ci8g;),  pp.  loji  iT. 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


187 


been  at  least  formally  asserted.  In  practice,  however,  the 
local  and  craft  prerogatives  of  sale,  the  town  monopoly 
and  extra-mural  rights  of  jurisdiction  ^  remained  in  force. 
Competition  between  the  members  of  the  same  handicraft 
from  different  towns  and  of  the  different  crafts  of  the  same 
towns  was  entirely  lacking;  settlement  in  rural  parts  was 
for  most  crafts  forbidden,  and  to  gain  independence  was 
made  a  matter  of  extreme  difficulty  for  all  journeymen 
who  were  not  masters'  sons  or  sons-in-law. 

But  what  was  the  condition  of  the  master  craftsmen  in 
exclusive  possession  of  these  privileges? 

Most  of  those  who  discuss  handicraft  to-day  depict  the 
masters  "  of  the  golden  era  of  handicraft "  as  well-to-do 
people  carrying  on  business  "  with  considerable  capital  for 
those  times,"  owning  "  their  own  dwellings  and  extensive 
workshops,"  working  along  with  master  journeymen  and 
apprentices,  personally  capable,  honourable,  respected.  All 
the  painters  dip  their  brush  in  glowing  colours,  so  neces- 
sary for  the  portrayal  of  a  condition  of  prosperity. 

Whence  have  they  this  picture?    We  have  vainly  sought 
it  in  the  eighteenth  or  seventeenth  century.     Moreover, 
our  classical  poets  could  not  have  had  it  before  their  eyes; 
for  their  "  gossiping  tailors  and  glovers  "  are  petty,  insig- 
nificant apparitions.    In  the  multitude  of  small  towns  the 
masters  were  able  to  maintain  themselves  only  through 
their  bit  of  farming  and  the  lucrative  brewing  privilege, 
and  in  the  larger  towns  through  the  little  counter  kept  by 
many  of  them  in  connection  with  their  workshop.    Even 
for  a  town  of  such  commercial,  prominence  as  Leipzig,  the 
mass  of  administrative  records  from  the  last  two  centuries 
do  not  allow  the  impression  that  the  craftsmen  of  that 
place  were  on  the  average  well  off;  and  the  extensive  liter- 

•  [Comp.  on  the  latter  Roscher.  System  der  Volksvi.,  5th  ed.  Vol.  3. 
S  ii8.-ED.3 


i88 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


\aiii. 


ature  on  guilds  that  has  come  down  from  the  close  of  the 
last  and  the  beginning  of  the  present  century,  the  "  Pa- 
triotische  Phantasien  "  of  Justus  Moser,  points  in  many  in- 
stances to  very  narrow  circumstances. 

The  barriers  erected  against  admission  to  mastership, 
though  extensive,  had  not  been  successfully  defended. 
Among  the  bakers  and  butchers,  whom  it  is  customary  to 
cite  as  types  of  prosperity,  baking  and  killing  in  rotation 
was  the  almost  universal  rule;  that  is,  there  were  so  many 
masters  that  each  baker  could  not  bake  afresh  each  day, 
nor  each  butcher  kill  a  head  of  cattle  per  week.  As  late 
as  1 817  a  writer  cites  as  a  normal  case  from  Bavaria  that 
in  a  town  with  ten  master  bakers  three  bakings  of  bread 
were  consumed  daily,  so  that  every  week  the  turn  fell  to 
each  twice.  The  butchers  could  slaughter  regularly  only 
the  smaller  kinds  of  stock.  In  North  German  towns  mat- 
ters appear  to  have  been  in  a  favourable  condition  if  one 
beef  were  sold  every  week  for  every  five  or  six  masters. 

Almost  all  crafts  with  a  guild  organization  had  a  clause 
in  their  statutes  fixing  the  maximum  number  of  journey- 
men and  apprentices  which  a  master  might '  -"ep.  As  a  rule 
he  was  limited  to  two.  In  the  i8th  century  this  number  was 
rarely  exceeded.  Under  normal  conditions,  however,  the 
grci  t  majority  of  trades  could  not  attain  to  this  number. 
Assuming  that  all  who  learned  the  handicraft  acquired 
master's  standing,  that  a  master  lived  on  the  average  thirty 
years  after  he  attained  that  rank,  and  that  ordinarily  a  man 
became  independent  between  the  twenty-eighth  and  thir- 
tieth year  of  his  life,  there  could  not  have  been  at  any  time 
more  than  half  as  many  journeymen  and  apprentices  as 
masters. 

The  actual  proportion  at  the  end  of  the  century  was 
often  much  smaller  still.  In  the  year  1784  there  were  in 
the  duchy  of  Magdeburg  27,050  independent  masters  and 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


189 


only  4,285  assistants  and  apprentices.  About  the  same 
time,  in  the  principality  of  Wurzburg  (in  Bavaria),  13762 
masters  with  2,176  assistants  and  apprentices  were  re- 
turned." In  both  territories  there  were  for  every  hundred 
masters  but  15.8  journeymen  and  apprentices.  Thus,  if 
we  assume  that  the  assistants  were  equally  distributed 
among  the  masters,  one  journeyman  or  apprentice  hardly 
fell  to  each  sixth  master.  In  more  than  five-sixths  of  the 
instances  the  master  carried  on  his  work  single-handed. 
In  1780  the  town  of  Bochum  (in  Westphalia)  counted  for 
every  five  master  masons  one;  in  the  other  crafts  they  were 
for  every  twenty-six  master  shoemakers  three,  for  every 
twenty-one  master  bakers,  every  eight  carpenters  and 
every  five  master  masons  one;  in  the  other  crafts  they 
were  altogether  lacking. 

In  some  parts  of  Prussia,  especially  in  Berlin,  the  con- 
ditions were  indeed  somewhat  more  favourable.     But  in 
general  the  idea  must  be  abandoned  that  our  modern  in- 
dustrial development  began  with  the  handicrafts  in  a  con- 
dition of  general  prosperity.     The  best  that  past  times 
could  of?er  the  craftsmen  was  a  modest  competence,  se- 
curity against  lack  of  work  and  against  over-severe  com- 
petition from  their  fellows.    They  deal  directly  with  their 
customers,  in  quiet  times  work  up  a  stock  and  take  it  to 
market,  and  stand  firmly  together  in  the  guild  if  it  is  a 
question  of  voting  down  a  new  application  for  mastership, 
taking  action  against  an  itinerant  workman  or  resisting 
an  encroachment  on  the  part  of  a  neighbouring  craft.    To- 
wards one  another,  however,  they  are  possessed  with  the 
pettiest  bread-and-butter  jealousy,  and  give  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  to  the  courts  and  administrative  ofificials.     Such 
was  the  early  handicraft. 

♦AccordinK   to   Sclimoller,   Zur  Gcsch.   d.   dculsch  KUingewerbe   vn 

jy.  Jhdt.,  pp.  21.  22. 


190 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


Down  to  the  fourth  decade  of  last  century  there  was 
no  really  great  change.  After  the  time  of  Napoleon,  the 
old  industrial  policy  was  repeatedly  moderated,  but  in  most 
parts  of  Germany  it  was  not  abolished  until  the  sixties.  It 
gave  place  to  industrial  freedom.  Anyone  might  now  carry 
on  any  business  anywhere  and  on  any  desired  scale.  The 
local  prc'^ibitive  powers  fell  to  the  ground.  Each  trades- 
man could  dispose  of  his  products  where  he  would,  and  in 
his  own  locality  had  to  tolerate  all  external  competition. 
The  barriers  between  the  different  branches  of  industry 
dropped  away,  and  everyone  could  manufacture  what  was 
to  his  advantage. 

All  this  took  place  with  the  full  assent  of  the  craftsmen 
themselves.  The  conviction  that  the  old  industrial  polity 
had  become  untenable  was  shared  in  at  least  the  more  ad- 
vanced parts  of  Germany  by  all.  If  ever  an  old  insti- 
tution was  abolished  with  the  approbation  of  the  whole 
nation,  it  was  the  guild  system.  The  sole  sporadic  mis- 
giving was  that  apprenticeship  might  fall  into  decay,  and 
that  many  would  establish  themselves  as  independent 
craftsmen  who  had  not  regularly  learned  their  trade.  This 
apprehension  has  proved  groundless.  According  to  the 
results  of  the  inquiry  made  into  handicraft  in  various 
districts  of  Germany,  ninety-seven  per  cent,  of  those  con- 
sidered as  still  carrying  on  an  independent  handicraft  had 
enjoyed  a  preparatory  training  as  hand-workers.  The 
small  remainder  consisted  mainly  of  those  who  had  re- 
ceived their  technical  training  in  apprentice  shops  and 
technical  schools,  asylums  for  the  blind,  institutions  for  the 
deaf  and  dumb,  in  prison  and  in  barracks. 

The  influence  of  the  new  conditions  on  the  number,  local 
distribution,  and  extent  of  undertakings  assumed  a  differ- 
ent form.  At  first  it  was  feared  that  the  establishment  of 
numerous  petty  master  workmen  without  capital  would 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


191 


lead  to  a  mass  of  half-developed  business  undertakings; 
but  this  has  in  nowise  proved  the  case.  On  the  contrary, 
after  a  brief  transitional  period,  the  undertakings  in  the 
towns  have  on  the  average  during  the  last  generation 
numerically  diminished,  while  in  financial  strength  and  in 
the  number  of  assistants,  so  far  as  their  existence  has  not 
been  in  general  jeopardized  by  causes  lying  outside  the 
province  of  industrial  legislation,  the  respective  branches 
of  trade  have  increased.  At  the  same  time  hand-work  has 
made  striking  advances  in  the  country,  and  to-day  is  ap- 
proximately as  strong  there  as  in  the  towns. 

This  equalization  between  town  and  country,  however, 
had  been  foreseen  and  aimed  at  at  the  time  by  the  advo- 
cates of  industrial  freedom.  If  there  was  the  further 
expectation  that  through  industrial  freedom  the  way  of 
the  artisan  would  be  opened  to  technical  progress  and  to 
economic  advancement,  this  also  has  not  lacked  fulfilment. 
Thousands  of  urban  master  workmen  have  in  the  last  two 
o-enerations  become  large  manufacturers,  or  at  least  capi- 
talistic entrepreneurs,  and  have  participated  fully  in  the 
technical  advances  of  the  period.  Freedom  of  mdustry 
and  enterprise  has  made  it  possible  for  them  to  broaden 
their  sphere  of  production  and  sale,  and  to  utilize  fully  their 
personal  ability.    This  fact  men  to-day  are  only  too  prone 

to  overlook. 

To  be  sure,  the  number  of  those  who  have  not  risen  in 
the  world,  but  remained  stationar>-,  and  of  those  reduced 
to  the  level  of  master  jobbers  and  homeworkers.  or  forced 
to  become  factory  employees,  is  much  larger  still.  Whole 
branches  of  industrv  formeriy  carried  on  as  hand-work  are 
almost  ruined,  or  at  least  are  lost  to  handicraft  as  a  par- 
ticular industrial  form.  Others  are  still  struggling  for  their 
existence.  A  great  weathering  and  transforming  process 
has  here  come  into  operation:    in  its  train  handicraft  is 


192 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


h2 


yielding  place  to  other  forms  of  business,  such  as  the  fac- 
tory and  commission  systems,  or  the  hybrid  forms  that 
every  period  of  transition  begets. 

The  public  at  large  is  content  to  include  all  involved  in 
these  processes  under  the  simple  headings:  displacement 
of  hand-work  by  machinery,  annihilation  of  handicraft  by 
the  factory!  The  smaller  cost  of  production  by  machinery 
is  looked  upon  as  the  sole  cause. 

The  reduction  of  these  expressions  to  their  true  value, 
and  the  demonstration  that  a  large  part  of  the  changes 
which  have  taken  place  has  its  cau^e  not  in  the  advances  of 
manufacturing  technique  but  in  the  direction  taken  by 
economic  consumption,  and  that  so  far  as  this  is  the  case 
handicraft  disappears  even  without  machine-work  coming 
into  competition  with  it — this  will  remain  one  of  the 
greatest  services  rendered  by  recent  investigators  of  hand- 
work. It  will  be  necessary  first  to  present  a  summary  view 
of  these  changes  in  consumption,  since  they,  so  to  speak, 
condition  the  whole  development. 

In  the  first  place,  a  local  concentration  of  demand  has  taken 
place.  The  aggregations  of  human  beings  that  have  been 
formed  in  great  cities  in  the  course  of  the  last  half  cen- 
tury, furthermore  the  standing  armies,  the  large  state  and 
municipal  institutiotis.  prisons,  hospitals,  technical  schools, 
etc.,  the  extensive  establishments  for  transportation,  fac- 
tories, and  large  undertakings  in  the  departments  of  trade, 
banking  and  insurance,  all  form  centres  of  wholesale  de- 
mand for  industrial  products.  To  these  are  to  be  added 
the  great  departmental  warehouses,  export  businesses  and 
cooperative  societies,  focussing  the  demand  of  large  sec- 
tions of  the  population  at  a  few  points.  This  demand  they 
are  no  longer  able  to  satisfy  as  customers  of  individual 
craftsmen. 

There  comes  then  as  a  secnnd  cnn-sideration  the  many 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


193 


instances  in  which  modern  civilization  has  propounded 
such  colossal  tasks  for  industry  that  they  cannot  be  accom- 
plished at  all  with  the  implements  and  methods  of  handi- 
craft, although  each  of  them  generally  requires  consid- 
erable hand-work.  The  manufacture  of  a  locomotive,  of  a 
steam  crane,  of  a  rapid  press,  the  building  of  a  river  bridge 
or  of  a  warship,  the  equipment  of  a  street  railway  with 
rails  and  rolling  stock  cannot  be  carried  out  with  mere 
hand  apparatus  and  manual  labour.  They  require  im- 
mensely powerful  mechanical  appliances,  highly  trained 
engineers  and  craftsmen  of  exceedingly  varied  qualitica- 
tions. 

Even  where  technically  such  tasks  might  still  be  accom- 
plished with  the  implements  of  hand-work,  the  entrusting 
of  them  to  master  craftsmen  is  economic  mj)ossihle  be- 
cause of  the  consequent  heavy  loss  of  erest.  In  the 
Middle  Ages  the  building  of  a  cathedral  might  occupy  two 
or  three  generations,  indeed,  several  centuries.  Imagine 
one  to-day  wishing  to  take  as  much  time  for  the  erection 
of  a  railway  station!  When  in  1896  the  contract  for  the 
main  building  of  the  Saxon-Thuringian  Industrial  Exhil)i- 
tion  in  Leipzig  was  to  be  let,  it  was  first  offered  to  the 
master  carpenters  of  the  city — contractors  who  carry 
on  work  with  considerable  capital  and  are  accustomed  to 
large  undertakings.  But  all  hesitated  because  of  the  short- 
ness of  the  term  for  building  and  the  extent  of  the  risk. 
Negotiations  were  thereupon  entered  into  with  a  large  firm 
of  builders  in  Frankfurt-on-Main.  In  a  few  hours  the  con- 
tract was  closed.  The  same  evening  the  telegraph  was 
working  in  all  directions.  A  week  later  the  steam  rams 
were  busy  on  the  building  site,  and  whole  trains  were  ar- 
riving from  Galicia  with  the  necessary  timber. 

In  fact,  one  can  say  that  to-day  there  are  industrial  tasks 
of  such  magnitude  that  they  can  be  performed  by  only  a 


194 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HASDICRAFTS. 


few,  perhaps  indeed  by  but  one  or  two  firms  in  Europe. 
Hence  the  development,  beside  the  earHer  type  of  factory, 
which  finds  its  strength  in  the  wholesale  production  of 
similar  articles,  of  a  new  type  whose  raison  d'etre  lies  in 
the  magnitude  of  the  task  of  production.  This  more  recent 
kind  of  large  industrial  undertaking  we  might  designate 
by  the  already  current  er.pression,  manufacturing  estab- 
lishment.^ At  the  head  stands  a  staff  of  technically  trained 
men,  with  extensive  mechanical  appliances  at  command, 
and  with  the  necessary  hand-work  in  most  effective  com- 
bination. 

But  the  demand  for  industrial  labour  has  been  not 
merely  locally  concentrated  and  condensed  to  meet  the 
extensive  requirements  of  production;  it  has  also  become 
more  uniform,  and  therefore  more  massive.  A  tendency 
tozvards  uniformity  runs  through  our  age,  eliminating  the 
differences  of  habits  and  customs  in  the  various  strata  of 
society.  Characteristic  peasant  costumes  have  disappeared 
down  to  unimportant  survivals;  the  furnishing  of  the  dwell- 
ing, of  the  kitchen,  has  become,  it  is  true,  more  extensive, 
but  likewise  more  uniform.  Even  in  the  smallest  home 
one  finds  the  petroleum  lamp,  the  coffee-mill,  some  enam- 
elled cooking  utensils,  a  pair  of  framed  photographs. 
To  make  the  desired  ware  accessible  to  the  poorer  classes, 
it  must  be  easily  and  cheaply  produced.  If  an  article  is 
lifted  on  the  crest  of  a  wave  of  fashion,  the  demand  for  it 
in  a  cheap  form  advances  even  up  to  the  better  situated 
grades  of  society,  and  thus  the  outlay  for  the  folly  of  fash- 
ion is  made  endurable.  In  ti  iS  way  there  arises  a  large 
demand  for  cheap  goods  for  whose  manufacture  the  earlier 
type  of  factory  is  naturally  adapted.  Hand-work  is  for  such 
too  expensive;  where  it  remains  technically  possible  it  must 


'  Fabrikationsansialt. 


THE  DECUSE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


195 


be  extremely  specialized,  and  then  it  necessarily  loses  the 
ground  of  custom  work  from  beneath  its  feet. 

There  is  finally  another  consideration  to  be  alluded  to. 
which  belongs  to  the  sphere  of  domestic  economy.  The  home 
is  being  relieved  more  and  more  of  the  vestigial  elements 
of  production,  and  is  restricting  itself  to  the  regulation  of 
consumption.  If  our  grandparents  required  a  sofa,  they 
first  had  the  joiner  make  the  frame,  then  purchased  the 
leather,  the  horsehair  and  the  feathers,  and  had  the  up- 
holsterer finish  the  work  in  the  house.  The  procedure  was 
similar  for  almost  every  more  important  piece  of  work. 
To-day  s'  -cialized  work  demanding  the  whole  strength  of 
each  indr  lual,  frequently  to  exhaustion,  no  longer  per- 
mits such  a  participation  in  production.  We  will  and  must 
purchase  what  we  need  ready-made.  We  desire  to  be 
quickly  supplied,  and  preferably  renounce  idiosyncrasies 
of  personal  taste,  rather  than  undertake  the  risk  of  order- 
ing from  different  producers.  Industry  has  to  adapt  itself 
accordingly. 

The  same  evolutionary  process  also  asserts  itself  in  de- 
partments where  the  individual  craftsman  had  been  accus- 
tomed from  time  immemorial  to  supply  finished  wares. 
Here  again  the  modern  city  consumer  will  no  longer  trade 
directly  with  him  by  ordering  the  single  piece  that  he  re- 
quires. He  is  averse  to  waiting;  he  knows  that  often  the 
work  does  not  turn  out  as  desired,  and  prefers  to  choose 
and  compare  before  he  buys. 

Thus  the  craftsman  can  no  longer  remain  a  custom 
worker  even  in  those  departments  in  which  technically  he 
is  fully  able  to  cope  with  the  demands  of  production.  He 
no  longer  works  on  individual  orders,  but  exclusively  for 
stock — which  formerly  he  did  only  in  case  of  necessity. 
To  reach  the  consumer  he  needs  the  intervention  of 
the  store.    By  the  discontinuance  of  personal  contact  be- 


196 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  H/INDICRAFTS. 


i'  i  1 


tween  producer  and  consumer,  hand-work  as  a  phase  of  in- 
dustry disappears.  It  becomes  a  capitalistic  undertaking, 
and  demands  management  in  accord  with  mercantile  prin- 
ciples. All  now  depends  upon  the  question  whether  busi- 
ness on  a  large  or  a  small  scale  offers  the  greater  advan- 
tages. In  the  first  case  the  department  of  work  formerly 
represented  by  handicraft  falls  to  the  factory,  in  the  latter 
to  domestic  industry. 

For  even  where  modern  demand  has  not  yet  appeared 
as  wholesale  concentrated  demand,  or  become  condensed 
to  meet  the  necessities  of  production  on  a  grand  scale,  it 
is  universally  well  adapted,  by  virtue  of  its  great  uniformity 
and  its  emancipation  from  household  labour,  to  localization 
at  a  few  points.  The  perfected  commercial  machinery  of 
modern  times,  the  low  tariffs  for  post  and  telegraph,  tha 
rapidity  and  regularity  of  freight  and  news  transportation, 
the  innumerable  means  of  advertising  and  of  making  an- 
nouncements afford  here  their  mighty  assistance.  Indus- 
trial freedom  thus  found  a  well-prepared  soil  when  it 
sprang  mto  life.  It  but  created  the  legal  forms  that  voice 
the  character  of  modern  economic  demand.  All  those 
circles  of  consumers  of  the  craftsmen  so  long  kept  arti- 
ficially asunder  could  now  be  united  through  the  interven- 
tion of  commerce  into  a  large  manufactory  and  commis- 
sion clientele,  not  necessarily  limited  to  national  boundaries. 

Concentrated  demand  does  not  permit  of  satisfaction  by 
scattered  production.  Along  with  the  process  of  concen- 
tration of  demand  must  go  a  process  of  concentration  in  the 
department  of  industrial  production.  It  is  to  this  that  handi- 
craft on  every  side  succumbs. 

But  this  process  is  very  complicated,  and  it  is  not  alto- 
gether easy  to  separate  from  one  another  the  individual 
processes  of  which  it  is  composed.  Wc  will  nevertheless 
essav  the  task,  choosinir  the  fate  of  hand-work  as  the  deter- 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  H/INDICRAFTS. 


197 


mining  factor  in  the  divisions  made  by  us.    We  thus  arrive 
at  the  five  following  cases: 

1.  Supplanting  of  hand-work  by  similar  factory  produc- 
tion. 

2.  Curtailment  of  its  department  of  production  by  fac- 
tory or  commission. 

3.  Incorporation  of  hand-work  with  the  large  undertak- 
ing. 

4.  Impoverishment  of  hand-work  by  shifting  of  demand. 

5.  Reduction  of  hand-work  by  way  of  the  warehouse  to 
home  and  sweat-work. 

Several  of  these  processes  often  go  on  simultaneously. 
In  our  consideration  of  the  subject,  however,  we  will  keep 
thom  as  far  as  possible  apart. 

I.  The  case  in  which  capitalistic  production  on  a  large 
scale  attacks  handicraft  along  its  whole  front,  in  order  to 
expel  it  completely  from  its  sphere  of  production  is  compara- 
tively rare.  From  earlier  times  we  may  mention  weaving, 
clock  and  gun  making,  and  also  the  sm'dler  industries  of 
the  pin-makers,  button-makers,  tool-smiths,  card-makers, 
hosiers;  from  recent  times  hatmaking,  shoemaking,  dyeing, 
soap  manufacture,  rope-making,  nail  and  cutlery  smithing, 
comb-making:  to  a  certain  extent  beer-brewing  and 
coopering  also  belong  to  the  list. 

The  process  of  displacement  assumes  now  a  quicker  now 
a  less  rapid  character,  according  as  the  handicraft  in  ques- 
tion formerly  carried  on  manufacture  for  stock  along  with 
market  and  ^'u,p  sale,  or  restricted  itself  to  custom  work. 
Thus  the  making  of  shoes  for  market  sale  paved  the  way 
for  the  manufacture  of  shoes  by  machinery,  because  it  had 
long  accustomed  certain  classes  of  the  people  to  the  pur- 
chase of  ready-made  footwear. 

For  handicraft  the  result  of  such  a  development  varies 
accordin"-  n^  th<'  f:!'.-tnry  product,  after  being  worn  out. 


193 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


at 


permits  of  repair  or  not.  In  the  latter  case  handicraft  dis- 
appears altogether;  in  the  former  it  evolves  into  a  repair 
trade,  with  or  without  a  sale  shop.  The  carrying  on  by  a 
hand-worker  of  a  shop  trade  with  factory  goods  in  his  own 
line  is  not  exactly  an  unfavourable  metamorphosis;  but 
only  craftsmen  with  considerable  capital  can  manage  it. 
On  the  oiher  hand,  pure  repair  trade  very  easily  loses 
the  ground  of  hand-work  beneath  its  feet,  if  the  factory- 
product  passes  completely  into  the  control  of  retail  mer- 
chants. For  then  the  majority  of  consumers  prefer  to  have 
repairs  made  in  the  shop  in  which  they  have  purchased  the 
new  ware.  The  proprietor  of  the  shop  keeiis  a  journey- 
man or  sends  out  the  mending  to  a  petty  master  workman. 
This  greatly  diminishes  their  return,  and  makes  them  com- 
pletely dependent.  Moreover,  repairing  can  also  be  car- 
ried on  on  a  large  scale,  as  with  the  so-called  rag-dyeing, 
which  works  with  considerable  capital  and  independent 
collecting  points.  Finally,  the  repairing  can  become  quite 
superfluous  through  very  cheap  i)roduction  of  new  wares, 
as.  for  example,  with  clocks  and  shoes;  repair  would  cost 
more  than  a  new  article. 

2.  Much  more  frequently  does  the  second  group  of  evo- 
lutionary processes  make  its  appearance.  Here  it  is  not  a 
([uestion  of  the  com])lete  loss  of  the  new  manufacture,  but 
merelv  of  the  curtailment  of  the  department  of  production  fall- 
ing to  handicraft  through  factory  or  commission  business. 
The  causes  of  this  process  may  be  very  diverse.  While 
recognising  the  impossibility  of  being  exhaustive,  we  will 
distinguish  four  of  them: 

ia)  I'arious  handicrafts  are  fused  into  a  single  manufac- 
turing establishment :  for  example,  joi-icrs,  wood-carvers, 
turners,  upholsterers,  painters.  !ac<|uerers  into  a  furniture 
factory;  wheelwrights,  smiths,  saddlers,  glaziers  into  a  car- 
riage manufactory;  bnsket-inakers.  joiners,  wheelwrights, 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


199 


saddlers,  smiths,  locksmiths,  lacquerers  into  a  baby-car- 
riage factory.  We  may  mention  further  all  kinds  of  ma- 
chine-shops, locomotive  and  car-works,  piano  factories, 
trunk  factories,  billiard-taLle  factories,  and  also  the  estab- 
lishments for  the  production  of  whole  factory  plants — dis- 
tillery, brewery,  sugar-refinery,  etc.  As  a  rule  the  part  of 
production  withdrawn  from  the  individual  handicraft 
through  such  an  incorporation  forms  but  a  small  frap^ment 
of  its  previous  sphere  of  work  and  of  its  market.  J  how- 
ever, such  blood-lettings  are  frequent,  as  among  the 
turners,  saddlers  and  locksmiths,  there  finally  remains 
very  little,  and  the  handicraft  may  die  of  exhaustion. 

(/;)  Various  remunerative  articles  adapted  to  zJiolcsalc  pro- 
duction by  factory  or  house  industry  are  withdrawn  from 
hand-work.  Thus  bookbinding  has  1     1  to  resign  ah.iost  its 
whole  extensive  department  of  pro    iction  to  more  than 
forty  kinds  of  special  trades;  there  remains  but  the  indi- 
vidual binding  for  private  customers.     Basket-making  has 
surrendered  the  fine  wares  to  homework,  baby-carriages 
and  the  like  to  factories,  and  only  the  coarse  willow  wicker- 
work  remains  to  handicraft.    The  locksmith  has  even  lost 
the  article,  the  lock,  from  which  he  has  his  name;  the 
brush-maker  the  manufacture  of  paint,   tooth,   and   nail 
brushes;   the  cabinet-maker  has   been  compelled  to   re- 
nounce the  intermediate  wares   (Berim   furniture),   and 
ordinary  pine  furniture  has  become  a  stock-in-trade  of 
the  store;    confectionery  is  threatened,  in  the  cities  at 
least,  with  being  despoiled  by  the  factories  of  the  manu- 
facture of  bread;  the  tinsmith  no  longer  makes  his  vessels; 
in  short  there  arc  likely  but  few  handicrafts  that  have  not 
similar  losses  to  record. 

(f)  The  factory  takes  over  the  primary  stages  of  production. 
It  was  precisely  the  first  rough  working  of  the  material 
which  demands  the  greatest  exi)enditurc  of  strength,  it 


200 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HAKDICRAFTS. 


was  exactly  this  primary  handling  that  suggested  the  ap- 
plication of  machinery,  while  the  finer  and  individual 
shaping  of  the  product  in  the  later  stages  of  the  process 
of  production  tempted  the  entrepreneur  but  slightly.  In 
almost  all  metal  and  wood  industries  the  raw  material  is 
now  used  only  in  the  form  of  half-manufactured  wares. 
The  furriers  work  up  skins  already  prepared,  the  smith 
purchases  the  finished  horseshoe,  the  glazier  ready-made 
window-frames,  the  brush-maker  cut  and  bored  wooden 
parts  and  prepared  bristles,  the  contracting  carpenter  in- 
laid flooring  cut  as  desired  and  doors  all  ready  to  ha*"^. 

At  first  such  a  loss  is  generally  felt  by  the  handicraft  con- 
cerned as  an  alleviation  rather  than  an  injury.  The  process 
of  production  is  shortened;  the  individual  master  can  pro- 
duce a  greater  quantity  of  finished  articles  than  formerly; 
and  if  he  reckons  on  each  piece  the  same  profit  as  for- 
merly, his  income  can  easily  advance  provided  he  retains 
sufficient  work.  A  locksmith,  who  procures  all  door- 
mountings  ready-made  from  the  hardware  shop,  can 
readily  finish  several  buildings  in  one  summer,  while  pre- 
viously, when  he  had  first  to  make  these  wares,  he  perhaps 
completed  only  one.  But  still,  in  most  cases,  through  such 
a  cutting  into  the  roots  of  hand-work,  not  a  few  of  the  mas- 
ter craftsmen  become  superthious.  At  the  same  time,  how- 
ever, the  amount  of  busiuf'ss  cai)ital  rec|uired  increases, 
since  the  craftsman  has  now  to  make  disl)ursements  not 
merely  for  the  raw  inaterial.  but  also  for  the  costs  of  pro- 
<luction  of  the  ]iart!y  manufactured  jiroduct.  and  further- 
more. Ir  ■  to  furnish  the  manufacturer's  ami  tra-I  :r's  profits 
as  well. 

This  is  all  the  more  vital,  since  just  in  the  first-hand  pur- 
chase of  the  raw  material  and  in  its  proper  selection  the 
greatest  profit  is  often  made.  For  this  reason  trading 
l^oi.'.ce*  b.avc  v,ot  infre!j!!!-!'.'!v  tnki-!'.  over  the  preparatory 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


20X 


Stages  in  production  even  where  a  partial  manufacture 
with  machinery  is  not  to  be  thought  of.  There  is  abso- 
lutely no  doubt  that  the  hand-worker  in  wood  was  in  a 
better  position  when  he  could  purchase  his  wood  in  the 
form  of  logs  in  the  forest  than  now,  when  he  procures  it  in 
the  form  of  boards,  laths,  and  veneers  from  lumber-dealers; 
and  that  the  brush-maker  worked  to  greater  advantage 
when  he  bought  the  rough  bristles  from  the  butcher  than 
now,  when  he  must  buy  them  arranged  by  the  dealer  in 
innumerable  classes. 

Of  course  this  trade  in  partly  finished  goods  is  very  con- 
venient for  the  craftsman;  he  can  obtain  from  the  dealer 
even  the  smallest  quantities.  But  it  is  exactly  this  that  has 
contributed  not  a  little  to  the  decline  of  the  handicrafts, 
since  the  journeyman  can  now  go  into  business  almost 
without  capital.  Thus,  for  instance,  in  the  shoe  trade  the 
manufacture  of  vamps  at  first  greatly  promoted  business 
on  a  small  scale,  not  because  it  shortened  the  manufactur- 
ing process  for  the  shoemaker,  but  because  it  placed  him 
in  a  positior  to  purchase  a  single  pair  of  uppers  at  the 
shoefinder's  where  formerly  he  had  to  procure  from  the 
tanner  at  least  a  whole  skin. 

This  cooperation  of  mechanical  preparatory  work  and 
handicraft  assumes  a  particularly  interesting  form  where 
the  wliolc  productive  part  of  the  labour  process  drops 
away  from  hand-work.  The  craftsman  can  then  continue 
to  maintain  himself  only  if  the  product  needs  to  be  set  in 
place  or  fitted.  But  he  sinks  back  once  more  almost  to  the 
state  of  the  wage-worker.  Thus  the  locksmith  and  the 
joiner  (the  latter  for  ready-made  doors  and  inlaid  flooring) 
are  now  but  "  fitters  "";  and  the  role  of  the  horseshoer  nail- 
ing on  ready-made  horseshoes  is  not  very  dilTerent. 

On  the  other  '..and,  the  shortci.lng  of  the  process  of 
manufacture  makes  the  business  more  capitalistic  and  the 


303 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


turnover  more  rapid.  The  vital  element  of  handicraft, 
however,  is  not  the  profit  on  capital,  but  the  labour  earn- 
ings, and  these  under  all  circumstances  are  being  curtailed. 

{d)  The  appearance  of  nciv  rmv  materials  and  methods  of 
production  better  adapted  for  manufacture  on  a  large 
scale  than  those  prev'ously  employed  in  hand-work,  handi- 
caps the  latter  for  a  part  of  this  sphere  of  production. 
We  may  cite  among  other  instances  the  appearance  of 
the  curved  (Vienna)  furniture,  the  manufacture  of  wire 
nails  and  its  influence  on  nail-smithing,  the  wire-rope 
manufacture  in  opposition  to  the  hempen  rope,  the  in- 
vasion by  gutta  percha  of  the  consumption  sphere  of 
leather  and  linen.  The  enamelled  cooking  utensil  has  en- 
croached simultaneously  upon  the  manufacture  of  pottery, 
tinsmithing  and  the  business  of  the  coppersmith;  and  the 
invention  of  linen  for  bookbinding  in  place  of  leather  and 
parchment  has  smoothed  the  way  for  wholesale  book- 
binding by  machinery. 

Thus  at  the  most  diverse  points  handicraft  is  being  as- 
sailed by  the  modern,  more  progressive,  forms  of  manu- 
facture. The  attacks,  generally  delivered  in  a  manner  to 
disarm  opposition,  are  not  infrequently  made  under  the 
fair  mask  of  the  stronger  friend  taking  a  load  from  its 
shoulders,  until  finally  nothing  remains  to  tempt  the  capi- 
talistic appetite  of  the  entrepreneur. 

3.  We  come  now  to  those  cases  in  which  handicraft 
loses  it*;  independence  through  being  appended  to  a  large 
business.  Every  more  extensive  undertaking,  be  it  manu- 
facturing, trading,  or  a  general  commercial  establishment, 
requires  for  its  own  business  various  kinds  of  hand-work. 
As  long  as  such  tasks  are  few  i-  number,  they  are  given 
out  to  master  craftsmen.  But  if  they  grow  more  numerous 
and  regular,  it  becomes  advantageous  to  organize  a  sub- 
department  for  them  within  the  walls  nf  the  establishm.ent. 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


203 


1 


Today  every  large  brewery  or  wine-house  has  its  own 
cooperage;  the  street-railway  companies  maintain  work- 
shops for  smiths,  saddlers,  wheelwrights  and  machinists; 
canning  factories  have  their  own  tinshops;  a  shipyard 
keeps  cabinet-makers  and  upholsterers  for  the  internal  fur- 
nishing of  its  passenger  steamers;  almost  every  large 
manufactory  has  a  machine  and  repair  shop.  The  master 
who  enters  such  a  large  establishment  as  foreman  of  the 
special  workshop  ceases,  of  course,  to  be  free  from  the  con- 
trol of  others,  but  enjoys,  on  the  other  hand,  a  position 
that  is  to  a  certain  extent  independent,  and,  above  all,  se- 
cure. 

By  the  free  craftsmen,  however,  the  loss  of  such  strong 
purchasers  is  most  bitterly  felt.  Indeed,  the  system  de- 
scribed can  lead  to  the  starving  out  of  whole  crafts — a  fate 
that  has  overtaken,  for  example,  turning,  which  is  being 
appended  to  all  trades  using  its  products  in  the  par- 
tially manufactured  state.  But  this  process  is  too  much  in 
the  interests  of  a  good  economy  to  make  it  possible  to 
check  i;. 

The  workmen  for  such  subdepartments  of  a  large  in- 
dustrial establishment,  be  it  further  remarked,  receive  as 
a  rule  a  training  in  their  handicaft  as  long  as  it  continues 
to  have  an  independent  existence.  An  abnormally  large 
number  of  ai)prentices  can  thus  be  employed  by  it,  while 
the  journeymen  have  a  much  more  extended  labour  market 
than  the  handicraft  alone  could  offer.  This  is  the  explana- 
tion, for  instance,  of  the  occasional  discovery  in  the  lock- 
smith's trade  of  ten  times  as  many  apprentices  as  journey- 
men. 

4.  Handicraft  is  impoverished  through  shifting  of  demana, 
and  entirely  ruined  through  cessation  of  demand.  Such 
shiftings  have  occurred  at  all  epochs — we  may  recall  the 
use  of  parchment  and  periwigs — hut  perhaps  never  tnnre 


204 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


frequently  than  in  our  own  rapidly  moving  times.    We  will 
give  only  a  few  instances. 

The  cooper  prq)ared  for  the  household  of  our  grand- 
parents divers  vessels  now  sought  for  in  vain,  at  least  in 
a  city  home:  meat-barrels,  tubs  for  sauerkraut  and  beans, 
washtubs,  water-buckets,  rain-barrels,  even  bathtubs  and 
washing  vessels.  We  no  longer  keep  supplies  of  meat  and 
preserved  vegetables;  water  is  furnished  us  by  the  water- 
works system;  and  the  place  of  the  small  wooden  vessels 
has  been  taken  by  those  of  tin,  china,  or  crockery.  A  sec- 
ond example  is  offered  by  the  turner,  who  formerly  had  to 
supply  almost  every  household  with  a  spinning-wheel  or 
two,  spools  and  reels.  To-day  the  spinning-wheel  has  sunk 
to  the  position  of  an  "  old  German  "  show-piece.  Botli  in- 
dustries have,  of  course,  found  fresh  purchasers  for  those 
they  have  lost,  especially  coopering,  through  the  increase 
of  barrel-packing.  But  the  new  customers  are  factories 
that  at  the  earliest  opportunity  incorporate  the  cooperage 
as  a  subsidiary  department.  The  industry  of  the  pewterer 
presents  a  third  example.  The  pewter  plates  and  dishes 
that  were  to  be  found  in  almost  every  house  throughout 
town  and  country  have  passed  out  of  fashion.  In  their 
place  have  come  porcelain  and  stoneware,  and  the  pewter- 
er's  trade  has  thus  to  all  intents  lost  the  very  foundation 
of  its  existence.  Finally,  we  may  recall  the  shiftings  in 
demand  which  the  great  revolutions  in  the  sphere  of  travel 
have  lirought  about,  and  which  have  fallen  with  especial 
severity  on  the  saddler,  trunk-maker  and  furrier. 

5.  In  a  last  group  --f  instances  handicraft  come,  into  com- 
plete dependence  on  trade;  the  master  becomes  a  home- 
worker,  shice  his  products  can  now  reach  the  consumers 
only  through  the  store.  The  cause  of  this  phenomenon 
is  of  a  double  nature:  on  the  one  hand,  the  high  rents  of 
city  business  sites,  whicli  force  the  master  to  live  and  pen 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


205 


up  his  workshop  in  a  garret  or  a  rear  house  where  he  is 
with  difficulty  found,  and  where  at  no  time  is  he  sought 
out  by  his  better  customers;  on  the  other,  the  inchna- 
tion  of  the  pubUc  to  buy  only  where  a  larger  selection  is 
to  be  had,  and  where  the  merchant  is  "  accommodating," 
that  is,  sends  goods  for  inspection,  takes  back  if  they  do 
not  suit,  articles  like  brushes,  combs,  fine  basket-maker's 
wares  and  leather  goods,  small  wooden  and  metal  articles 
which  in  larger  towns  are  now  scarcely  ever  purchased 
from  the  producer  or  outside  the  fancy-goods  and  hard- 
ware stores.  Indeed,  we  even  give  our  orders  to  the  stores 
if  we  wish  to  have  a  special  article  made.  Who  to-day  or- 
ders his  visiting  cards  from  the  printer,  or  a  smoker's  table 
from  the  cabinet-maker?  Anyone  who  has  the  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing,  along  the  streets  that  he  must  traverse 
perhaps  several  times  a  day,  so  complete  a  display  of  every- 
thing necessary  for  his  wants  that  he  can  in  a  few  minutes 
procure  any  desired  article,  will  seldom  care  out  of  love 
for  a  declinirg  handicraft  to  betake  himself  to  a  distant 
suburb  and  there,  after  a  long  inquiry  and  search,  climb 
three  or  four  gloomy  staircases  before  he  can  deliver  his 
order,  in  the  execution  of  wliich  the  appointed  time  will 
perhaps  even  then  be  disregarded.  And  shall,  for  instance, 
anyone  who  finds  in  a  furniture  stock  everything  that  is  in 
any  way  necessary  to  the  furnishing  of  a  room,  shall  a 
young  housewife  who  in  a  few  hours  can  gather  together 
in  a  housefurnishing  estajlishment  a  complete  kitchen 
outfit,  shall  these  preferably  seek  out  a  half  dozen  hand- 
workers from  whom  they  can  obtain  what  they  want  only 
after  weeks  of  waiting? 


Such  may  be  regarded  as  the  chief  features  of  the  process 
of  transformation  that  is  taking  place  to-day  in  hand- 
icraft.   We  may,  in  conclusion,  scate  it  as  a  matured  con- 


'Mi 


206 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


viction  compelled  by  the  results  of  the  investigations,  that 
in  all  cases  xvhcre  it  suttH^'S  finished  goods  zi'liicli  arc  not  very 
perishable,  and  which  can  he  manufactured  in  definite  styles  for 
average  requirements,  hand-zcork  is  endangered  in  the  highest 
degree.  This  applies  even  ivhere  a  technical  superiority  on  the 
part  of  tlic  large  undertaking  does  not  exist.  These  are,  in 
short,  cases  in  which  the  product  is  suited  to  immediate 
consumption  without  further  assistance  from  the  producer. 

In  all  these  instances  trade  in  its  various  branches,  down 
to  that  of  hawking,  will  more  and  more  form  the  uni- 
versal clearing-house  for  industrial  wares.  Handicraft  must 
specialize  as  far  as  possible;  and  it  can  save  itself  from  the 
fate  of  dependence  upon  the  store  only  by  becoming  a  cap- 
italized industry  on  a  small  scale.  The  union  of  a  sale  shop 
with  the  workshop  is  then  indispensable. 

In  the  contrary  instances,  where  the  product  of  handi- 
craft must  be  placed  in  position  or  separately  fitted,  the  crafts- 
man at  least  does  not  lose  touch  with  the  consumers.  But 
even  in  such  cases  he  can  maintain  himself  in  the  large 
towns  only  if  the  demand  is  strongly  centralized  (as  with 
locksmiths  and  generally  all  craftsmen  connected  with 
building  in  the  widest  sense),  or  again  if  he  keeps  a  shop 
(as  with  tinsmithing.  saddlery,  or  ordered  tailoring),  which 
serves  as  a  collecting  bureau  for  orders.  In  both  cases  a 
business  without  some  capital  lacks  sufficient  vitality  to 
exist. 

With  this  conclusion  correspond  the  results  of  the  "  In- 
vestigations into  the  Conditions  of  the  Handicrafts." 
Everywhere  in  the  tozvns  the  relative  number  of  masters 
has  greatly  diminished,  the  number  of  their  assistants  in- 
creased: that  is,  the  businesses  have  grown.  In  a  still 
higher  degree  must  their  capital  have  advanced.  Mani- 
festly it  is  the  upper  stratum  of  city  handicraftsmen  which 
has  here  maintained  itself  by  adopting  business  methods 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICR/tFTS. 


207 


suited  to  the  requirements  of  the  present,  and  which 
probably  has  prospects  of  holdinj?  its  own  for  some  time 
to  come.  Where  an  equal  variety  is  ofifered,  the  public 
will  always  prefer  the  shop  of  the  master  craftsman  to  that 
of  the  pure  tradesman,  if  for  no  other  reason,  because  of 
the  convenience  for  repairs  and  the  greater  technical 
knowledge  of  the  master.  The  latter,  moreover,  through 
the  custom  coming  to  the  workshop,  remains  protected 
from  that  officious  idleness  to  which  the  city  shopkeeper 
so  readily  falls  a  victim. 

In  the  country  conditions  have  a  fairly  different  aspect. 
Those  causes  of  repression  of  hand-work  that  result  from 
the  altered  form  of  demand  and  the  conditions  of  life  in 
the  towns  prevail  here  only  in  a  lesser  degree.  Rural  de- 
mand is  not  yet  so  very  concentrated;  it  is  to  a  large  extent 
of  an  individual  nature;  everyone  knows  the  hand-worker 
and  his  household  personally.  Connections  with  neigh- 
bours, school  comrades  or  family  relatives  likewise  play 
a  part  in  holding  trade.  Here  real  handicraft  soil  is  still 
to  be  found.  The  craftsman  cultivates  in  many  cases  a 
bit  of  land;  at  the  harvest  he  will  assist  his  neighbour  in 
mowmg  and  the  like;  he  possesses  a  cottage  of  his  own; 
in  short,  for  his  sustenance  he  is  not  exclusively  dependent 
upon  his  trade.  In  his  business  wage-work  and  the  system 
of  credit  balances  «  still  largely  prevail. 

Most  of  the  crafts  that  have  any  real  footing  in  the  coun- 
try are  in  our  opinion  secure  as  far  as  the  future  can  be 
forecasted.  Of  course,  they  cannot  completely  escape  the 
revolutions  in  urban  industry.  In  the  country  the  tin- 
smith, as  a  rule,  no  longer  makes  the  tinware  he  sells, 

•[For  a  general  discussion  of  credit  balances  (Gcs^enrcchuMig)  as  a 
feature  of  public  ^inancini^  conip.  an  instructive  article  by  the  anttnir 
in  Ztschr.  d.  Resamt.  Staatswiss.  for  1896,  pp.  i  fT.:  Dcr  jffentl.  Haus- 
hatt  d.  StadI  t'r.  «»i  MilU-iilU-r.—ED.] 


3o8 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HASDICRAFTS. 


and    ♦he    smith    uses    horseshoes    purchased    ready    for 
use.    But  the  customs  connected  with  consumption  change 
here  but  slowly;  the  demand  remains  more  individual,  and 
there  is  relatively  far  more  repair  work;  indeed,  the  agri- 
cultural machines  have  brought  fresh  w  rk  of  the  latter 
type   for   iron-worker,    smith,    tinsmiti.,    cooper,   joiner. 
About  fifty-two  per  cent,  of  the  master  craftsmen  in  Ger- 
many to-day  are  found  in  the  country.    The  country  has 
come  to  equal  the  cities  in  density  of  hand-worker  popula- 
tion. Certainly  the  number  of  separate  shops  i..  the  coun- 
try is  particularly  large.     In  Prussia  the  average  num- 
ber of  persons  as  assistants  has  seemingly  diminished  some- 
what since  1861;  the  number  of  apprentices  is  relatively 
high.     But  in  this  there  is  no  ground  for  anxiety.    The 
relation  between  th    .lumber  of  assistants  and  the  number 
of  masters  is  much  more  favourable  to-day  in  rural  parts 
than  it  was  in  the  cities  at  the  beginning  of  this  century; 
and  the  condition  of  the  rural  cxsui^n.^    accorair.g  to  all 
that  has  been  published  on  the  subject,  though  modest,  is 
still  satisfactory.      In    this    the    reports   to    hand    from 
Silesia,  Saxony,  East  Friesland,  Baden,  and  Alsace  agree. 
There  are  certainly  some  village  craftsmen  leading  very 
meagre  lives;  but  such  there  have  been  in  handicraft  at 

all  times. 

Among  those  who  consider  handicraft  the  ideal  form 
of  industrial  activity  two  means  have  long  been  extolled 
for  restoring  solid  footing  and  strength  to  the  tottering 
industrial  middle  class;  and  there  are  many  who  still  believe 
in  their  efficacy. 

The  first  is  the  "return  to  artistic  zcork."  Efforts  of  this 
kind  have  been  diligently  fostered  for  well-nigh  twenty- 
five  years.  For  their  encouragement  museums,  technical 
schools,  and  apprentice  workshops  have  been  instituted. 
But  experience  has  soon  taught,  and  the  investigations  of 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDlCR/tFTS. 


309 


the  Social  Science  Club  have  confirmed  it  anew,  that  these 
efforts  have  borne  very  little  fruit  for  the  small  trader. 
Ironwork  alone  has  gained  at  a  few  points  through  the  re- 
newed employment  of  wrought-iron  trellis-work,  stair  bal- 
ustrades, chandeliers,  and  the  like.  Otherwise  all  establish- 
ments successfully  carrying  on  artistic  industry  are  manu- 
facturing businesses  of  a  large,  and  indeed  of  the  largest, 
type.  This  is  the  case,  for  example,  with  bookbinding,  art 
furniture,  pottery 

The  second  means  is  the  extension  of  small  power  ma- 
chines and  the  electrical  transmission  of  power,  which  shall 
enable  the  smallest  master  to  obtain  the  most  impor- 
tant labour-saving  machines.  Even  men  like  Sir  William 
Siemens  and  F.  Reuleaux  have  placed  the  greatest  hopes 
on  the  popularizing  of  these  technical  achievements.  These 
expectations  they  have  based  upon  the  beliet  that  success 
is  simply  a  question  of  removing  the  technical  superiority 
of  the  large  undertaking,  this  superiority  resting  indeed 
in  great  part  upon  the  employment  of  labour-saving  ma- 
chines. 

In  this  they  have  curiously  overlooked  the  fact  that 
mechanical  power  is  the  more  costly  the  smaller  the  scale 
on  which  it  is  employed.  According  to  a  table  given  by 
Riedel  in  the  Ccntralblatt  deutschcr  Ingenieurc  for  1891, 
the  conparative  expenses  of  a  small  motor  working  ten 
hours  per  day  and  horse-power  are  as  follows  (in  cents — 
four  pfennigs  equal  one  cent): 


Type  of  Motor.' 


Small  steam 

Gas 

Compressed  air. 

Electrical 

Petroleum 


Horse-power  of  Motor. 


1/4 


13 
10} 


9j 
..1 
/ 1 

i3i 
20 


7i 

6 

61- 
Ili 
15 


4i 
5 
10 
8| 


4t 
4i 
4i 


9t 


6i 


3i 

'si* 


'The  price  of  gas  is  taken  at  3  cents  per  cubic  metre. 


2IO 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


f 


To  place  two  businesses  on  a  footing  of  technical  equal- 
ity is  thus  not  to  give  them  industrial  equality.    A  machine 
must  be  fully  utilized  and  able  to  pay  for  itself  if  it  is  to 
cheapen  producton.     As  it  cannot  take  over  the  whole 
process  of  production,  but  only  individual  parts  of  it,  it 
presuppo.es,  if  it  is  to  remain  continuously  in  action,  an 
expansion  of  the  business,  the  employment  of  a  larger 
number  of  workmen,   greater  outlays  for  raw  material, 
rent  of  workshop,  etc.    For  this  tiie  sma.i  master  generally 
lacks   the   capital.     Did   he  possess   it.   the   advantages 
of  more  favourable  purchase  of  raw  material,  of  greater  di- 
vision of  work,  of  employment  of  the  most  capable  tech- 
nical and  artistic  workmen,  and  of  l^etter  chances  of  sale 
would  always  remain  with  the  large  undertaking.*     It  is 
difficult  to  imagine  how  shrewd  men  could  o^'erlook  r.ll 
this.    Has  the  tailor's,  shoemaker's,  or  saddler's  handicraft 
gained  in  vitality  through  the  sewing-machine? 

The  hDpe  of  finding  through  these  two  devices  a  new 
ba>is  for  handicraft  must  be  abandoned;  in  most  indus- 
trial branches  in  the  larger  cities  there  is  no  longer  any 
such  footing.  Only  in  so  far  as  the  conditions  of  custom 
work  continue  unaltered  does  there  remain  room  for  a 
limited  number  of  businesses  leavened  with  capital.  In 
these  other  persons  take  the  place  of  the  craftsmen;  small 
and  moderately  large  entrepreneurs,  foremen  of  the  fac- 

'  An  interest! riR  proof  of  what  has  been  said  is  oflfered  by  the  wood- 
turninn  machines  in  cal)inet-makinn.  None  of  the  many  larger  handi- 
craft shoi)s  in  the  cabinet  trade  of  Berlin  (anions  which  are  also  some 
wdl-'ounded  businesses  of  niu.lerate  si/c.  with  twenty  or  more  work- 
men) have  adopted  tin  ^e  machines  in  their  work,  although  mechanical 
piiwer  of  anv  strength  is  to  be  rented  in  many  worlshoi."!  in  the  city 
at  a  c.miparatively  moderate  price.  It  sr  -  rather  to  be  the  case  that 
small  independent  want-paying  shops  1  been  opened  which  take 

charge  of  the  cutting  and  fitting;  and  y  t'l-  largest  furniture  fac- 
tories and  cabinet-making  establishmcn  ha-  '  up  those  machines 
in  their  !in<ines<. 


THE  DECLIUE  OF  THE  H/INDICR/IFTS. 


21  I 


tory  v'O  '..shops  and  skilled  factory  hands,  contractors  and 
hoLic-workcr,-?  Fxternally  all  these  groups,  with  the  ex- 
cef  .'\o\  of  the  last,  are  better  situated  than  the  majority 
of  tr.e  ^niall  master?  of  the  past.  Whether  they  are  better 
satisfied  anci  i-iii^picr  is  another  question. 

Here,  however,  we  are  dealing  rather  with  the  tendency 
of  the  development  than  with  the  actual  conditions  of  to- 
day. But  we  must  not  be  deceived.  The  decline  takes 
place  slowly  and  silently;  great  misery,  such  as  prevailed 
among  the  hand-weavers  when  they  fought  their  forlorn 
battle  against  the  mechanical  spinning-mule,  is  found,  with 
rare  exceptions,  only  in  the  clothing  industries.  Certain 
grades  of  city  population  have  ever  remained  true  to  the 
handicraftsman,  and  will  be  faithful  for  some  time  to  come. 
There  thus  remains  time  for  the  coming  generation  to 
adapt  itself  to  the  new  conditions.  What  it  needs  for  the 
transition  is  a  better  general,  mercantile  and  technical  edu- 
cation. The  thrifty,  cautious  person  still  finas  opportunity 
to  carry  on  work  and  gain  a  position;  he  is  not  so  destitute 
and  at  a  loss  as  those  who  leave  school  and  workshop  with 
insufficient  equipment  for  life. 

It  is  our  conviction  that  the  process  in  question  cai.not 
be  arrested  by  legislation,  though  it  may  perhaps  be  re- 
tarded.    But  would  that  be  a  gain? 

In  the  preceding  chapter  the  evolution  of  systems  of 
industry  was  compared  with  the  development  of  the  ma- 
chinery of  commerce,  in  which  the  earlier  forms  were,  it 
is  true,  pressed  ba'k.  though  not  destroyed,  by  the  new. 
The  comparison  is  applicable  likewise  to  handicraft. 
Handicraft  as  a  form  of  work  is  not  perishing::;  it  is  only  be- 
ing restricted  to  that  sphere  in  which  it  can  make  the  most 
of  its  peculiar  advantages.  That  sphere  to-day  is  the 
country,  the  districts  where  it  still  finds  the  conditions  of 
existence  that  gave  birth  to  it  in  the  Middle  .\ges. 


Zl2 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS.  * 


In  rural  Germany  we  have  at  present,  according  to  tol- 
erably exact  estimates,  some  six  hundred  and    evemy 
rousand  maste.  craftsmen  and  more  than  a  half  m.lhon 
housana  m  •         ^,  together  about  one  and 

journeymen  and  apprentices,  or  i  ^  kaa\„„  the 

one-f^fth  millions  engaged  in  active  worl.  Adding  the 
n^embers  of  the  masters'  households  we  have  at  a  low 
estimate,  a  total  of  over  three  million  persons.  The  largest 
paTof  this  numerical  success  has  been  achieved  by  haiidi- 
craft  in  our  own  century.  From  the  socio-pol.tical  stand- 
pott  there  is  no  ground  for  weeping  with  the  masters  of 
{^he  small  country  hamlets  who  have  lost  their  rural  cus- 
tomers.   Rather  the  contrary. 

During  the  period  of  the  jealous  exclusiveness  oi  the 
town  guilds,  when  one  could  pass  on  the  highway  t  ou- 
sands  of  journevmen  who  could  nowhere  obtam  admit- 
ance  to  mastership,  the  journeymen  smiths  had  a  saying 
which  the  stranger  at  the  meeting-house  had  to  recite  to 
the  head  journev man."  It  ran:  "  A  master  I  have  not 
been  as  vet.  but  hope  to  become  one  in  time,  if  not  here, 
then  elsewhere.  A  league  from  the  ring,  where  the  dogs 
leap  and  break  the  hedges  [town  limits],  there  it  is  good 

to  be  a  master."  ...        u  _ 

Settlement  in  the  country,  at  that  time  the  sheet-anchor 
of  the  journevman  smith,  still  saves  many  thousands  of 
craftsmen  who  do  not  feel  themselves  ec,ual  to  the  demands 
of  citv  life  For  the  country  an  important  social  and  eco- 
nomic a.lvance  lies  in  this  admixture  of  industrial  elements 
among  the  people;  and  the  livelihoods  there  resting  upon 
the  foundation  of  handicraft  are  among  the  most  whole- 
some ofTered  by  present  society.  Of  course,  they  are  to 
be  measured  by  the  natural  standanl  of  early  hand-work, 

•Comp.    L.    Stock,   C.rund-.ugc  d.    Vcrfassung   d.   Gcscllenwcscs   d. 
deulsch.  Handwtrker.  \k  >*-' 


THE  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


213 


not  by  the  artificial  standard  taken  from  the  phantasy  of 
economic  and  political  romancers. 

For  just  there  lies  the  seat  of  the  complaints  and  griev- 
ances which  since  the  beginnings  of  modern  development 
have  been  raised  so  persistently  by  the  surviving  repre- 
sentatives of  urban  craftsmen,  that  they  have  given  rise  to 
a  false  impression  of  the  degree  of  comfort  that  handicraft 
as  an  industrial  system  can  possibly  attord  its  representa- 
tives. This  standard  was  comparatively  high  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  because  the  hand-worker's  position  in  life  was 
then  measured  by  the  position  of  those  in  the  social  grade 
lying  next  below  his  own,  from  which  he  himself  had  often 
come — the  class  of  villein  peasantry,  the  "  poor  people  " 
of  the  country.  Compared  with  this  unspeakably  op- 
pressed class,  handicraft  had  "golden  soil."  for  it  regu- 
larly yielded  a  money  return  and  secured  its  members 
civil  freedom,  while  the  peasant  was  exj  d  to  all  the 
vicissitudes  of  agriculture  and  to  the  oppressions  of  the 
owners  of  the  soil.  It  would  be  false  to  assume  that  the 
mediaeval  craftsmen  had  on  the  average  considerable  cap- 
ital ;  and  it  was  almost  the  same  with  the  smaller  tradei . 
With  what  lay  beyond — patrician  families  and  nobility — 
the  craftsman  did  not  compare  himself:  under  the  system 
of  classes  founded  upon  birth  the  individual  is  satisfied  if 
he  obtains  what  is  due  his  class. 

Our  social  system  of  to-day  rests  upon  classes  deter- 
mined by  occupation.  In  such  a  system  everyone  com- 
pares himself  with  all  others,  because  no  legal  barrier  sep- 
arates him  from  the  rest.  In  comparison  with  the  other 
classes  of  modern  society,  the  position  of  handicraft, 
even  where  it  is  still  capable  of  holding  its  own,  ap- 
pears a  very  modest  one.  A*!  other  classes  would  seem 
to  have  raised  themselves,  and  the  hand-worker  class  alone 
to  have  remained  stationary.    Where  hand-work  is  strug- 


1 
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r«£  DECLINE  OF  THE  HANDICRAFTS. 


gling  for  its  very  existence,  it  presents  a  sad  picture  of 
oppression. 

It  is  certainly  not  a  spectacle  to  be  viewed  with  com- 
posure to  see  that  broad  stratum  of  small  independent 
persons  who  formed  the  heart  of  the  early  town  popula- 
tions disappear  and  yield  place  to  a  disconnected  mass  of 
dependent  labourers.  It  is  a  loss  to  society  for  which  we 
find  in  urban  soil  no  present  compensation. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  GENESIS   OF  JOURNALISM. 

The  close  connection  existing  in  Germany  between 
scientific  investigation  and  university  instruction,  while 
exhibiting  many  unquestionably  pleasing  features,  has  this 
one  gjeat  disadvantage,  that  those  departments  of  knowl- 
edge which  cannot  foim  the  basis  of  an  academic  career  are 
inadequately  investigated.  This  is  the  fate  of  journalism. 
While  in  France  and  England  the  history  of  journalism 
presents  an  extraordinarily  rich  and  developed  literature, 
we  in  Germany  possess  but  two  essays  worthy  of  mention, 
one  treating  of  the  beginnings,  the  other,  in  a  decidedly 
fragmentary  manner,  of  the  later  development  of  the  daily 
press.* 

In  this  condition  of  affairs  there  would  be  little  profit 
in  determining  to  which  of  the  existing  departments  of 
scientific  research  this  neglected  tUok  really  falls.  A  sub- 
ject so  complex  as  journalism  can  be  treated  with  advan- 
tage from  very  different  standpoints:  from  the  standpoint 
of  political  history,  of  literary  history,  of  bibliography,  of 
law.  of  philology  even,  as  writings  on  the  slovenliness  of 
journalistic  style  give  proof.  The  subject  is,  without 
doubt,  of  most  direct  concern  to  the  political  economist. 


'  The  little  book  by  Ludwig  Salomon.  Ctsck.  d.  deulsch.  Zeitungs- 
tcesciis  von  J.  erst.  Anfang.  b\s  s.  Wicderaufricht.  d.  Deutsch  Retches, 
I,  igoo.  with  its  incomplete  treatment  of  the  subject,  cannot  materially 
alter  this  opinion. 

«I5 


2l6 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


For  the  newspaper  is  primarily  a  commercial  contrivance, 
forming  one  of  the  most  important  pillars  of  contemporary- 
economic  activity.  But  in  vain  do  we  search  economic 
text-books,  and  even  commercial  manuals  in  a  narrower 
sense,  for  a  paragraph  on  the  daily  press.  If,  under  these 
circumstances,  we  venture  a  brief  and  summary  treatment 
of  the  beginnmgs  of  journalism,  we  are  ourselves  most 
fully  conscious  of  our  inability  to  make  more  than  a  partial 
presentation,  and  in  so  far  as  economic  method  is  incapable 
of  exhausting  the  material  in  all  its  phases,  of  the  possible 
necessity  of  deceiving  legitimate  expectations. 

Our  descriptions  of  the  beginnings  of  journalism  will 
vary  with  our  conceptions  of  what  a  newspaper  is.  If  the 
question.  What  is  a  newspaper?  be  put  to  ten  different 
persons,  perhaps  ten  different  answers  will  be  received. 
On  the  other  hand,  no  one  who  is  asked  to  name  the 
agencies  that  weave  the  great  web  of  intellectual  and  ma- 
terial influences  and  counter-influences  by  which  modern 
humanity  is  combined  into  the  unity  of  society  will  need 
much  reflection  to  give  first  rank  to  the  newspaper,  along 
with  post,  railroad,  and  telegraph. 

In  fact,  the  newspaper  forms  a  link  in  the  chain  of  mod- 
ern commercial  machinery;  it  is  one  of  those  contrivances 
by  which  in  society  the  exchange  of  intellectual  and  ma- 
terial goods  is  facilitated.  Yet  it  is  not  an  instrument  of 
commercial  intercourse  in  the  sense  of  the  post  or  the  rail- 
way, both  of  which  have  to  do  with  the  transport  of  per- 
sons, goods,  and  news,  but  rat'ier  in  the  sense  of  the  letter 
3nd  circular.  These  make  the  news  capable  of  transport, 
only  l)€cause  they  are  enabled  by  the  help  of  writing  and 
printing  to  cut  it  adrift,  as  it  were,  from  its  originator,  and 
give  it  corporeal  independence. 

However  great  the  difference  l)etween  letter,  circular, 
and  newspaper  5nay  appear  to-d.iy,  .a  little  reflection  shows 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


217 


that  all  three  are  essentially  similar  products,  originating 
in  the  necessity  of  communicating  news  and  in  the  em- 
ployment of  writing  in  its  satisfaction.  The  sole  difference 
consists  in  the  letter  bemg  addressed  to  individuals,  the 
circular  to  several  specified  persons,  the  newspaper  to 
many  unspecified  persons.  Or,  in  other  words,  while  letter 
and  circular  are  instruments  for  the  private  communication 
of  news,  the  newspaper  is  an  instrument  for  its  publication. 

To-day  we  are,  of  course,  accustomed  to  the  regular 
printing  of  the  newspaper  and  its  periodical  appearance 
at  brief  intervals.  But  neither  of  these  is  an  essential  char- 
acteristic of  the  newspaper  as  a  means  of  news  publication. 
On  the  contrary,  it  will  become  apparent  directly  that  the 
primitive  paper  from  which  this  mighty  instrument  of 
commercial  intercourse  is  sprung  appeared  neither  in 
printed  form  nor  periodically,  but  that  it  closely  resembled 
the  letter  from  which,  indeed,  it  can  scarcely  be  distin- 
guished. To  be  sure,  repeated  appearance  at  l^rief  inter- 
vals is  involved  in  the  very  nature  of  news  publication. 
For  news  has  value  only  so  long  as  it  is  fresh;  and  to  pre- 
serve for  it  the  charm  of  novelty  its  publication  must  follow 
in  the  footsteps  of  '.^'  events.  We  shall,  however,  soon 
see  that  the  periodicity  of  these  intervals,  as  far  as  it  can 
be  noticed  in  the  infancy  of  journalism,  depended  upon  the 
regular  recurrence  of  opportunities  to  transport  the  news, 
and  was  in  no  way  connected  with  the  essential  nature  of 
the  newspaper. 

The  regular  collection  and  despatch  of  news  presupposes 
a  wide-spread  interest  in  pul-lic  affairs,  or  an  extensive 
area  of  trade  exhibiting  numerous  commercial  connec- 
tions and  combinations  of  interest,  or  both  at  once.  Such 
interest  is  not  realized  until  people  are  united  by  some 
more  or  less  extensive  political  organization  into  a  certain 
community  of  life-interest.    The  city  republics  of  ancient 


2l8 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


times  required  no  newspaper;  all  their  needs  of  publica- 
tion could  be  met  by  the  herald  and  by  inscriptions  as  oc- 
casion demanded.  Only  when  Roman  supremacy  had  em- 
braced or  subjected  to  its  influence  all  the  countries  of  the 
Mediterranean  was  there  need  of  some  means  by  which 
those  members  of  the  ruling  class  who  had  gone  to  the 
provinces  as  ofificials,  tax-farmers  and  in  other  occupa- 
tions, might  receive  the  current  news  of  the  capital.  It  is 
significant  that  Caesar,  the  creator  of  the  military  mon- 
archy and  of  the  administrative  centralization  of  Rome,  is 
regarded  as  the  founder  of  the  first  contrivance  resembling 
a  newspaper.^ 

We  say  resembling  a  newspaper,  for  journalism  as  now 
understood  did  not  exist  among  the  Romans;  and  Momm- 
sen's  mention  of  a  "  Roman  Intelligence  Sheet  "  ^  is  but  a 
distorted  modernization.  Caesar's  innovations  are  to  be 
compared  rather  with  the  bulletins  and  "  laundry-lists  " 
which  the  literary  bureaux  of  our  own  governments  supply 
for  the  use  of  journalists,  than  with  our  modern  news- 
papers. Thus  in  his  case  it  was  not  a  question  of  founding 
journalism,  but  of  influencing  the  newspapers  already  in 
existence. 

Indeed,  long  before  Caesar's  consulate  it  had  become 
customary  for  Romans  in  the  provinces  to  keep  one  or 
more  correspondents  at  the  capital  to  send  them  written 
reports  on  the  course  of  political  movement,  and  on  other 
events  of  the  day.    Such  a  correspondent  was  generally  an 

*  Leclerc,  Des  journaux  ches  les  Romains  (Paris.  18,38).  Lieberkiihn, 
De  diurnis  Romanorum  actis  (Vitnar.  1840).  .'\.  Schmidt,  Das  Staats- 
ecitungs'iccsen  d.  Rihtier,  in  Zt«chr.  f.  Gcschichtsw..  I,  p.  303  ff.  N.  Zell, 
Ober  d.  Zcitungcn  d.  alien  Rlimcr  u.  d.  DoduiTschen  Fragwcnte.  in  his 
Ferienschriften,  pp.  i  ff.,  109  ff.  Hiibner,  Pc  sciiatus  toptiUq^e  Romani 
actis,  in  Fleckeiscn's  Jhrb.  f.  Philol..  Suppl.  III.  pp.  5^4  ff.  Heinze. 
Df  spuriis  diurttorum  actorum  fragmcnHs  (Grcifswald,  i860). 

'  Monimjtii.  JVuiii.  Gcsch.,  Ill  (4ih  cd.),  p.  60;. 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


219 


intelligent  slave  or  freedman  intimately  acquainted  with 
affairs  at  the  capital,  who,  moreover,  often  made  a  business 
of  reporting  for  several.  He  was  thus  a  species  of  primitive 
reporter,  differing  from  those  of  to-day  only  in  writing  not 
for  a  newspaper,  but  directly  for  readers.  On  recom- 
mendation of  their  employers,  these  reporters  enjoyed  at 
times  admission  even  to  the  senate  discussions.  Antony 
kept  such  a  man,  whose  duty  it  was  to  report  to  him  not 
merely  on  the  senate's  resolutions,  but  also  on  the  speeches 
and  votes  of  the  senators.  Cicero,  when  pro-consul,  re- 
ceived through  his  friend,  M.  Ca^lius,  the  reports  of  a  cer- 
tain Chrestus,  but  seems  not  to  have  been  particularly  well 
satisfied  with  the  latter's  accounts  of  gladiatorial  sports, 
law-court  proceedings,  and  the  various  pieces  of  city  gos- 
sip. As  in  this  case,  such  correspondence  never  extended 
beyond  a  rude  relation  of  facts  that  required  supplement- 
ing through  letters  from  party  friends  of  the  absent  per- 
son. These  friends,  as  we  know  from  Cicero,  supplied  the 
real  report  on  political  feeling. 

The  innovation  made  by  Caesar  consisted  in  instituting 
the  publication  of  a  brief  record  of  the  transactions  and 
rcbolutions  of  the  senate,  and  in  his  causing  to  be  pub- 
lished the  transactions  of  the  assemblies  of  the  Plebs,  as 
well  as  other  important  matters  of  public  concern. 

The  first  were  the  Acta  senatus,  the  latter  the  Acta  diurna 
populi  Romani.  The  publication  was  made  by  painting  the 
text  on  a  white  tablet  smeared  with  gypsum.  The  tablet 
was  displayed  publicly,  and  for  the  inhabitants  of  the  cap- 
ital was  thus  what  we  call  a  placard.  For  those  abroad 
copies  wer^"  made  by  numerous  writers  and  forwarded  to 
their  employers.  After  a  certain  interval  the  original  was 
placed  in  the  archives  of  the  state. 

This  Roman  Public  Bulletin  was  thus  not  in  itself  a 
newspaper,  though  it  attained  the  importance  of  such  by 


220 


THE   GENESIS   OF  JOURNALISM. 


what  we  would  consider  the  cumbersome  device  of  private 
correspondence  to  the  provinces. 

The  Acta  senatus  -ivtre  pubHshed  for  but  a  short  time, 
being  suppressd  by  Augustus.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
Acta  dinrna  populi  Romani  obtained  such  favour  in  the  eyes 
of  the  people  that  their  contents  could  be  made  much  more 
comprehensive,  while  their  publication  was  long  con- 
tinued under  the  Empire.  They  more  and  more  developed, 
however,  into  a  kind  of  court  circular,  and  their  contents 
began  to  resemble  the  matter  ofifered  by  the  official  or 
semi-ofificial  sheets  of  many  European  capitals  to-day.  On 
the  whole,  the;  confined  themselves  to  imparting  facts; 
their  one  noti-eable  tendency  was  to  ignore  the  disagree- 

i.b1e.  . 

The  contents  still  continued  to  reach  the  provmces  by 
way  of  correspondence;  and,  as  Tacitus  tells  us,  the  people 
had  regard  not  merely  for  what  the  official  gazette  con- 
tained but  also  for  what  it  left  unrecorded:  people  read 
between  the  lines.  How  long  the  whole  system  lasted  we 
do  not  know.  Probably  after  the  removal  of  the  court  to 
Constantinople  it  gradually  came  to  an  end. 

The  Germanic  peoples  who,  after  the  Romans,  assumed 
the  lead  in  the  history  of  Europe,  were  neither  in  civiliza- 
tion nor  in  political  organization  fitted  to  maintain  a  sim- 
ilar constitution  of  the  news  service;  nor  did  they  require 
it.     All  through  the  Middle  Ages  the  political  and  social 
life  of  men  was  bounded  by  a  narrow  horizon;  culture  re- 
tired to  the  cloisters,  and  for  centuries  afifected  only  the 
people  of  prominence.   There  were  no  trade  interests  be- 
yond the  narrow  walls  of  their  own  town  or  manor  to  draw 
men  together.     It  is  only  in  the  later  centuries  of  the 
MiddleAges  that  extensive  social  combinations  once  more 
appear.  It  is  first  the  church,  embracing  with  her  hierarchy 
all  the  countries  of  Germanic  and  Latin  civilization,  next 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


221 


the  burgher  class  with  its  city  confederacies  and  common 
trade  interests,  and,  finally,  as  a  counter-influence  to  these, 
the  secular  territorial  powers,  who  succeed  in  gradually 
realizing  some  form  of  union.  In  the  twelfth  and  thir- 
teenth centuries  we  notice  the  first  traces  of  an  organized 
service  for  transmission  of  news  and  letters  in  the  messen- 
gers of  monasteries,  the  universities,  and  the  various  spirit- 
ual dignitaries;  in  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  we 
have  advanced  to  a  comprehensive, almost  postlike, organ- 
ization of  local  messenger  bureaux  for  the  epistolary  inter- 
course of  traders  and  of  municipal  authorities.  And  now, 
for  the  first  time,  we  meet  with  the  word  Zcitung,  or  news- 
paper. The  word  meant  originally  that  which  was  happen- 
ing at  the  time  {Zcit  —  time),  a  present  occurrence;  then 
information  on  such  an  event,  a  message,  a  report,  news. 

In  particular  do  we  find  the  word  .ised  for  the  com- 
munications on  current  political  events  which  were  re- 
ceived by  the  town  clerks  from  other  towns  or  from  indi- 
vidual friends  in  the  councils  of  those  towns,  either  as  let- 
ters or  as  supplements  to  them,  and  which  are  still  fre- 
quently found  in  their  archives.  Thus  the  municipal 
archives  of  Frankfurt-on-Main  possess  as  many  as  i88  let- 
ters relating  to  the  raids  of  the  Armagnacs  in  the  early 
forties  of  the  fifteenth  century;  they  are  mostly  descrip- 
tions of  sufferings  and  appeals  for  help  from  towns  in  Al- 
sace and  Switzerland.  Among  them  are  not  less  than 
three  accounts  of  the  battle  of  St.  Jacob,  one  from  Ziirich, 
one  from  Strassburg.  and  one  from  the  council  of  Basel.* 

•Wiilkor,  Vrkundcn  u.  Schrcibcn.  bctreff.  d.  Zug  d.  Armagnaken:  in 
Neujahrsblatt  d.  Vcreins  f.  Gesch.  u.  Altertumsk.  7.11  Frankfurt-a.-M. 
for  187,^. 

On  the  followins  section  consult:  Hatin.  Ilistoire  politique  et  Uttcrairc 
dc  la  frcssc  en  France  (Paris,  i85(H)i),  Vol.  I,  pp.  28  ff.,  and  his  Biblio- 
graphic historiquc  ct  critique  dc  la  prcsse  pcriodique  fran(;aisc.  prcccdce 
d'Mn   Ess!!   hi^ti-'rique  ct  sUitixtique  sur  la  fiaissance  et  Ics  progrcs  dc  la 


223 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


This  reporting  is  voluntary,  and  rests  upon  a  basis  of 
reciprocity.  It  sprang  from  the  common  interest  uniting 
the  towns  against  the  noble  and  the  territorial  powers, 
and  found  effective  support  in  the  numerous  town- 
messengers  who  maintained  in  regular  courses — for  this 
reason  called  "  ordinary  "  messengers— the  connection 
between  Upper  and  Lower  Germany. 

In  the  fifteenth  century  we  find  a  similar  exchange  of 
news  by  letter  between  people  of  high  standing— princes, 
statesmen,  university  professors — which  reaches  its  high- 
est development  during  the  era  of  the  Reformation.  It  is 
now  good  form  to  add  to  a  letter  a  special  rubric,  or  to 
insert  on  special  sheets.  '"  Noz-issima,"  "  Tidings,"  "  New 
Tidings  "  or  "  News."  "  Advices."  Moreover,  we  already 
notice  how  people  have  ceased  to  give  each  other  mere 
casual  information  abo-n  the  troubles  and  distress  of  the 
time,  and  aim  at  a  systematic  collection  of  news.  It  was 
especially  to  the  great  commercial  centres  and  the  trading 
towns  wnich  were  the  centres  of  messenger  activity  and 
the  seat  of  higher  education  that  news  items  flowed  from 
all  quarters,  there  to  be  collected  and  re-edited  into  letters 
and  supplements,  and  thence  to  be  diverted  in  streams  in 
all  directions.  Ever>-where  these  written  tidings  bear  the 
name  of  newspaper  (Zcitini^  or  natc  Zeitungen). 

The  largest  part  of  this  correspondence  is  of  a  T)rivate 


frcsse   pcriodiquc    dans   Ics   Deux   Mondes    (Paris,    1866),    pp.    xlv    ff.; 
Leber    Dc  Vctat  red  dc  la  prcsse  et  des  pamphlets  depuis   ''^^cois 
JHsqua    Louis   XIV    (Paris.    1834).    Alex.    Andrews.    The    .-nrnry      ' 
Bnlish  Journalism  (London.  T850).  Vol.  I.  pp.  i^  ff.;  Ott.no   ...  sta^^ 
periodica,  il  commercio  dci  llbri  e  latipographia  tn  Italm  (Milan-      i>*  ^ 
p    7;  Roh.  Pnit7,  r,e!:chichie  d.  dcutsch.  Jouriialismus  (Ilanovc-     iH^ 
Vol    1-  J    Wincklcr,  Pie  period.  Presse  Ocstcrrcichs  (Vienna,  ih^O.    ,"C 
10  ff;  Gm>shofT,  Pic  hncHtehe  Zcitung  d.  XVI.  Jah-hundcrts     .^ii^£. 
1877):  Steinhauscn,  in  Archiv  f.  Post  u.  Telegraphic.   1895.  P'     .Ur*. 
and  lli^  Gcschichtc  d.  dcutsch.  Bficfes.  2  vol?. 


THE   GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


223 


character.  Men  at  the  centre  of  political  and  ecclesiastical 
activity  communicated  to  each  other  the  news  that  had 
come  to  hand.  It  was  a  reciprocal  giving  and  receiving 
which  did  not  prevent  those  with  a  heavy  correspondence 
from  multiplying  their  news-sheets  in  order  to  append 
them  to  letters  to  different  persons,  nor  the  recipients 
from  redespatching  copies  of  them  or  circulating  them 
amongst  their  acquaintances.  Princes,  it  would  seem,  al- 
ready maintained  at  important  commercial  points  their 
own  paid  correspondents. 

For  a  time  these  written  newspapers  did  not  find  their 
way  among  the  masses.  The  circles  for  which  they  were 
intended  were:  (i)  princes  and  statesmen,  as  also  town- 
councillors;  (2)  university  instructors  and  their  immediate 
cooperators  in  the  public  service  in  school  and  church; 
(3)  the  financiers  of  the  time,  the  great  merchants. 

Almost  all  reformers  and  humanists  are  diligent  news- 
paper correspondents  and  regular  recipients  of  newspaper 
reports.  This  is  especially  true  of  Melancthon,  whose 
numerous  connections  throughout  all  parts  of  Germany 
and  the  neighbouring  countries  continually  brought  him  a 
plentiful  store  of  fresh  news,  with  which  he  in  turn  sup- 
plied his  friends,  and  certain  princes  in  particular.  In 
comparison  with  his.  Luther's  and  Zwingli's  correspond- 
ence is  relatively  poor  in  such  tnatter.  On  the  other  hand, 
John  and  Jacob  Stunn.  Bucer  and  Capito  of  otrassburg, 
Oecolampadin.N  and  Beatus  Rhenanus  of  Basel.  Hiitzer  and 
Ur'hanus  Rhegiu-  of  Augsburg,  Ilier.  Baumgartner  of 
NtTremberg,  Joachim  Camerarius,  Bngcnhagen.  and  oth- 
ers were  very  zealous  and  active  in  this  direction. 

The  sources  for  their  news  are  manifold.  Besides  oral 
or  written  conmuuiications  from  friends,  we  know  of  nar- 
ratives of  incoming  merchants,  particularly  of  book-dealers 
who  had  visited  the  Frankfurt  fair,  reports  of  letter-car- 


m^ 


v\ 


,24  :he  genesis  of  journalism. 

riers  accounts  from  soldiers  returning  home  from  their 
campaigns,  communications  from  strangers  passing 
through  their  town  or  from  visiting  friends,  and  especially 
from  students  coming  from  foreign  lands  to  study  at  Ger- 
man universities;  finally,  any  items  gleaned  from  foreign 
ambassadors  who  happen  to  be  passing  through;  from 
chancellors,  secretaries,  and  agents  of  important  person- 

^^Naturally  such  oral  news  collected  at  random  varied 
creatly  in  worth,  and  had  first  to  undergo  the  editona 
criticism  of  the  correspondent  before  being  circulated 
further  The  news-items  based  upon  written  mformation 
were  of  much  greater  importance.  It  may  be  of  some 
interest,  by  following  Melancthon's  correspondence,  to  in- 
quire somewhat  into  the  sources  of  them.''  ,  ,  .   ., 

We  soon  perceive  that  there  were  a  number  of  definite 
collecting  centres  for  the  various  classes  of  news.  In  the 
forefront  of  interest  at  that  time  stood  the  Eastern  ques- 
tion, that  is,  the  threatening  of  the  countries  of  Central 
Europe  by  the  Turks.  Ncv^s  of  the  engagements  with  the 
latter  came  either  from  Hungary  through  Vienna,  Cra- 
cow or  Breslau,  or  from  Constantinople  by  sea  by  way  of 
Venice.    The  reporters  are  mostly  ecclesiastics,  adherents 

of  the  New  Learning. 

On  affairs  in  the  South  communications  came  from 
Rome,  Venice,  and  Genoa,  as  well  as  from  learned  friends 
in  Padua  and  Bologna.  News  from  France  and  Spam  was 
procured  by  way  of  Lyons.  Genoa,  and  Strassburg;  from 
England  and  the  Netherlands  by  way  of  Antwerp  and  Co- 
logne;  from  the  countries  c.f  the  North  by  way  of  Bremen 
Hamburg,  and  Lubeck;  from  the  Northeast  by  way  of 
Konigsberg  and  Riga. 

•According  to  Grasshoff.  cited  above,  pp.  2i^. 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


225 


In  Germany,  Nuremberg  was  the  chief  collecting  centre 
for  news,  partly  by  reason  of  its  central  position,  partly 
because  of  its  extensive  trade  connections.  Anyone  de- 
sirous of  receiving  reliable  and  definite  information  on  the 
doings  of  the  world  wrote  to  Nuremberg  or  sent  thither 
a  representative.  Princes  like  Duke  Albert  of  Prussia 
and  Christian  III  of  Denmark  there  maintained  resident 
correspondents,  whose  duty  it  was  to  collect  and  report 
any  fresh  items  of  news.  Town  officials,  councillors,  and 
reputable  merchants  frequently  undertook  such  an  office. 
Besides  Nuremberg.  Frankfurt,  Augsburg,  Regensburg, 
Worms,  and  Speier  were  also  important  news  centres. 

The  newspapers  that  Meiancthon  compiled  from  these 
various  sources  are  simply  historical  memoranc'a,  selecteo 
with  some  care  and  interspersed  at  rare  intervals  with 
discussions  of  a  political  nature,  and  more  frequently 
with  all  kinds  of  complaints  and  fears,  wishes  and  hopes. 
Along  with  the  important  news  from  the  Emperor's  court, 
from  the  various  seats  of  war  and  on  the  progress  of  the 
Reformation,  we  meet  with  others  reflecting  the  complete 
naivete  and  incredulity  of  the  times:  reports  of  political 
prophecies,  strange  natural  phenomena,  missbirths,  earth- 
quakes, showers  of  blood,  comets  and  other  celestial  ap- 
paritions. 

In  the  second  half  of  the  sixteenth  century  this  species 
of  news-agency  received  definite  form  and  organization  as 
a  business,  not  merely  in  Germany,  but,  apparently  even 
earlier,  in  Italy,  especially  in  Venice  and  R^me. 

Venice  was  long  regarded  as  the  birthplace  of  the  news- 
paper in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  word.  This  opin- 
ion was  supported  by  the  extensive  use  of  the  name  ga- 
zctta  or  gazcUc  amongst  the  Latin  nations  for  a  newspaper: 
and  this  word  is  to  be  found  eariiest  in  Venice  as  the  name 
of  the  small  coin. 


if 


326 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


M. 


We  will  not  enter  into  the  accounts — at  times  rather 
romantic— that  have  been  given  to  justify  the  derivation 
(in  itself  improbable)  of  the  name  of  the  newspaper  from 
the  name  of  the  coin.' 

In  itself,  however,  there  is  much  to  be  said  for  the  pre- 
sumption that  journalism,  as  described  above,  v»as  first  de- 
veloped as  a  business  in  Venice.  As  the  channel  of  trade 
between  the  East  and  West,  as  the  seat  of  a  govern- 
ment that  first  organized  the  political  news  service  and 
the  consular  system  in  the  modern  sense,  the  old  city  of 
lagoons  formed  a  natural  collecting  centre  for  important 
news-items  from  all  lands  of  the  known  vvorld.  Even 
early  in  the  fifteenth  century,  as  has  been  shown  by  the 
investigations  of  Valentinelli,  the  librarian  of  St.  Mark's 
Library,  collections  of  news  had  been  made  at  the  instance 
of  the  council  of  Venice  regarding  events  that  had 
either  occurred  within  the  republic  or  been  reported  by 
ambassadors,  consuls,  and  officials,  by  ships'  captains,  mer- 
chants and  the  like.  These  were  sent  as  circular  despatches 
to  the  Venetian  representatives  abroad  to  keep  them 
posted  on  international  affairs.  Such  collections  of  news 
were  called  fogli  d'azi'isi. 

Later  on,  duplicates  of  these  official  collections  were 
made,  though  evidently  not  for  public  circulation,  but 
rather  for  the  use  of  prominent  citizens  of  Venice  who 
sought  to  derive  advantage  from  them  in  tiicir  commercial 
operations,  and  also  communicated  them  by  letter  to  their 
business  friends  in  other  lands. 

This  appending  of  political  news  to  commercial  corre- 
spondence, or  the  enclosing  of  the  same  on  special  sheets, 
soon  became  the  practice  also  among  the  lartjc  traders 
of  Augsburg.  Nureniburg.  and  the  other  German  towns. 

•  Comp.  Hatin,  Bibliograpkie  dt  la  presse  perioduiue,  p.  xlvii. 


19       I 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURN/fUSM. 


227 


By  and  by  it  occurred  to  some  that  the  collection  and 
transmission  of  news  by  letter  could  be  made  a  source  of 
profit.  In  the  sixteenth  century  we  find  on  the  Venetian 
Rialto,  between  the  booths  of  the  changers  and  gold- 
smiths, an  independent  news-bureau  that  made  a  business 
of  gathering  and  distributing  to  interested  parties  polit- 
ical and  trade  news:  information  as  to  arrival  and  clearance 
of  vessels,  on  prices  of  wares,  on  the  safety  of  the  high- 
ways, and  also  on  political  events.''  Indeed,  a  whole  guild 
of  scrittori  d'awisi  grew  up.  In  a  short  time  we  meet  with 
the  same  people  in  Rome,  where  they  bear  the  name  nov- 
ellanti  or  gazettanti.  Here  their  activity,  whether  because 
they  circulated  disagreeable  f'  ':ts  or  accompanied  their 
facts  with  their  own  comments,  became  discomforting  to 
the  Curia.  In  the  year  1572  not  less  than  two  papal  bulls 
were  issued  against  them  (by  Pius  V  and  Gregory  XIII); 
the  writing  of  "  advices  "  was  strictly  forbidden,  and  its 
continuance  threatened  with  branding  and  the  galleys. 
Nevertheless  we  continue  to  meet  numerous  indications 
of  a  news  service  from  Rome  to  the  Upper  Italian  cities 
and  to  Germany. 

In  the  meantime,  newspaper  writing  had  also  become  a 
business  in  Germany  with  an  organization  that,  for  the 
existing  conditions  of  trade,  is  really  wonderful.  This 
organization  is  connected  on  the  one  hand  with  the  further 
develojjment  of  despatch  by  courier,  and  on  the  otner  with 
Emperor  Maximilian's  institution  of  the  post  from  the 
Austrian  Netherlands  to  the  capital,  Vienna,  by  which  the 
regular  receipt  of  news  was  greatly  facilitated.  We  thus 
find,  at  various  places,  in  the  second  half  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  special  correspondence  bureaux  which  collect  .md 
communicate  news  by  letter  to  their  subscribers.    Several 


'According  to  Prutz,  Ctsch.  d.  Journalismus,  I,  p   m. 


ml 


s\ 


228 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


collections  of  these  epistolary  newspapers  have  been  pre- 
served: for  instance,  one  from  1582  to  1591  in  the  Grand 
Ducal  library  in  Weimar,  and  two  in  the  University  li- 
brary at  Leipzig  from  the  two  last  decades  of  the  same 
century.® 

Let  us  refer  briefly  to  the  oldest  year  of  the  Leipzig  col- 
lection. It  bears  the  heading:  "  News  to  hand  from 
Nuremberg  from  the  26th  of  October  Anno  '87  to  the  26th 
of  October  Anno  '88."  Then  follow  in  independent  group- 
ings transcripts  of  the  news  received  weekly  from  Rome, 
Venice,  Antwerp,  and  Cologne  at  the  office  of  the  Nurem- 
berg firm  of  merchants,  Reiner  Volckhardt  and  Florian 
von  der  Bruckh,  and  thence  given  out  again  either  by  the 
house  itself  or  by  a  special  publisher.  The  person  who  re- 
ceived the  present  collection  was  probably  the  chief  city 
clerk  of  Leipzig,  Ludwig  Triib. 

The  communications  from  Rome  are  as  a  rule  da*ed 
about  six  days  earlier  than  those  from  Venice,  and  the 
Antwerp  correspondence  about  five  days  earlier  than  that 
from  Cologne.  All  four  places  lay  on  the  great  post-routes 
from  Italy  and  the  Netherlands  to  Germany.  Along  with 
these  periodical  communications  irregular  ones  appear 
now  and  then,  for  instance,  from  Prague  and  Breslau,  and 
particularly  often  from  Frankfurt-on-Main. 

Examining  the  contents  of  these  news-items  more 
closely  we  soon  find  that  we  have  to  do  not  with  events 
occurring  in  Rome,  Venice,  Antwerp,  etc..  but  with  re- 
ports collected  at  these  places.  Thus  the  correspondence 
from  Antwerp  contained  not  merely  news  from  the  Neth- 
erlands, but  also  from  France,  England,  and  Denmark;  by 
way  of  Rome  came  news  not  only  from  Italy,  but  from 
Spain  and  the  south  of  France  as  well;  from  Venice  came 

"  Comp.  Jyt.  Oixl,  Die  Anfangf  d  deulsch.  /Uilungstrcsst  in  Archiv 
f  C;t:bch.  d.  d'jlU-    !>.    Miu-Iihaiuiels.  \'ol.   Ill   (1^50). 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM.  229 

news  from  the  Orient.  The  reports  are  soberly  descriptive 
and  commercial  in  tone.  Political  items  preponderate; 
communications  on  trade  and  commerce  appear  less  fre- 
quently. There  is  no  trace  of  the  favourite  tales  of  won- 
ders and  ghosts. 

But  how  was  the  news  service  in  these  four  great  collect- 
ing points  organized?  Who  were  the  collectors  and  the 
intermediaries?  How  were  they  paid?  What  were  their 
sources  of  information?  Unfortunately  we  can  answer 
only  part  of  these  questions. 

In  the  first  place,  as  to  the  sources  from  which  the  au- 
thors of  the  letters  derive  their  information,  they  them- 
selves appeal  at  times  even  to  the  last  mail  or  to  the  regular 
messenger  service,  the  "  Ordinari."  Thus  we  read  in  a 
letter  from  Cologne  dated  February  28,  1591:  "The  let- 
ters from  Holland  and  Zeeland,  and  also  from  Italy,  have 
not  yet  appeared."  In  a  similar  letter  from  Rome  of  date 
February  17,  1590,  we  are  informed  that  the  postmaster 
there  has  contracted  with  the  Pope  to  establish  a  weekly 
post  to  and  from  Lyons;  and  at  the  close  we  read,  "  In  this 
way  we  shall  have  news  from  France  every  week." 

Nothing  more  than  this  is  to  be  gleaned  from  the  collec- 
tion itself.  When,  however,  we  notice  contemporaneously 
in  several  German  cities  that  it  is  the  heads  of  the  town- 
couriers  and  the  imperial  postmasters  who  in  particular  de- 
vote themselves  to  the  business  of  editing  and  despatching 
news-letters,  the  supposition  gains  greatly  in  probability 
that  the  collection  of  news  is  in  most  intimate  connection 
with  the  nail  service  of  the  time.  The  messenger  mas- 
ters and  the  postmasters  probably  exchanged  at  regular 
intervals  the  news  they  had  collected,  in  order  to  pass  it 
on  to  their  particular  clients.  But  the  whole  matter 
stands  greatly  in  need  of  closer  investigation." 
•Steinhausen  in  Archiv  f.  Post  u.  T\\..  1S.J5,  p.  J55.  expresses  merely 


f'      ! 


230 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


The  relations  between  wholesale  trade  and  newspapers 
somewhat  clearer.     Like  the  Nuremberg  merchants 
mentioned  above,  some  large  trading  houses  in  other  local- 
ities had  also  organized  an  independent  news  service.    Es- 
pecially prominent  were  the  Welsers  and  Fuggers,  whose 
news  reports  we  find  in  the  celebrated  letter-book  of 
the  Nuremberg  jurist,  Christoph  Scheurl,»°  along  with  the 
Nuremberg  correspondence.    In  the  second  half  of  the  six- 
teenth century  the  Fuggers  had  the  news  coming  to  them 
from  all  parts  of  the  world,  regularly  collected  and  appar- 
ently also  published.    The  title  of  the  regular  numbers  was 
"  Ordinari-Zeittungen."    There  were  also  supplements,  or 
"  specials."  with  the  latest  items.    The  price  of  one  num- 
ber was  four  kreuzer;  the  yearly  cost  in  Augsburg,  includ- 
ing delivery,  was  25  florins,  and  for  the  ordinari  numbers 
alone,  14  florins.     One  Jeremiah  Krasser,  of  Augsburg, 
burgher  and  newspaper  writer,  is  named  as  editor.     He 
informs  us  that  he  supplied  many  other  gentlemen  m 
Augsburg  and  district  with  his  news.    A  file  of  this  organ 
of  publication,  so  rich  in  material,  for  the  years  1568  to 
1604  is  found  in  the  Vienna  library.'* 

The  newspapers  of  the  Fuggers  regularly  contain  news 
from  all  parts  of  Europe  and  the  East,  and  also  from  places 
still  further  removed:  Persia,  China  and  Japan,  America. 
Besides  the  political  correspondence,  we  have  frequent  re- 
ports of  har\'ests  and  memoranda  of  prices,  now  and  then 
even  communications  in  the  nature  of  advertisements,  and 
a  long  list  of  Vienna  firms— how  and  where  all  things 
could  now  be  procured  in  Vienna.     Even  literary  notices 

a  supposition,  though  indeed  a  very  well  grrounded  and  probable  one. 
on  the  course  of  development.  ,    „  , 

"  Christoph  Scheurl:  Brxffbuch.  fin  Bcilrag  :.  Geschich.  d.  Reforma- 
tion u.  ihrer  Zett  (Sooden  u    Knaake,  Potsdam.  1867-187^). 

"  S.cket.  Weimar  Jahrb.  f.  dcutsche  Sprache  «.  Litteratur.  I.  p.  M^ 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


231 


of  recent  and  noteworthy  books  appear;  and  there  is  one 
account  of  the  presentation  of  a  new  drama. 

As  in  Augsburg,  so  in  other  places  in  Germany  we  meet 
individual  correspondents — ^journalists  (Zeitunger),  novel- 
ists— who  carry  on  their  newspaper  writing  in  the  service 
of  princes  or  of  cities.  Thus  in  1609  the  elector  of  Saxony, 
Christian  II,  made  a  contract  with  Joh.  Rudolf  Ehinger, 
of  Balzhein  in  Ulm,  whereby  the  latter  undertook  for  a 
yearly  fee  of  100  florins  to  furnish  reports  upon  events  in 
Switzerland  and  France,  Swabia  naturally  being  included. 
In  the  year  1613  Hans  Zeidler,  of  Prague,  received  from 
the  Saxon  court  for  similar  service  a  yearly  salary  of  300 
florins,  together  with  3319  thalers  6  g.  gr.  for  expenses 
incurred  in  collecting  his  news.'^  In  the  same  year  the 
sovereign  bishop  of  Bamberg  had  newspapers  forwarded 
to  him  by  a  Dr.  Gugel,  of  Nuremberg,  for  a  fee  of  20  flor- 
ins. In  the  year  1625  the  town  of  Halle  paid  the  news  cor- 
respondent. Hieronymus  Teuthorn,  of  Leipzig,  the  sum  of 
two  schock,  eight  groschen.  as  quarterly  fee;  and  as  late  as 
1662  the  council  of  the  town  of  Delitzsch  was  subscriber  to 
a  newspaper  correspondence  from  Leipzig  at  a  quarterly 
fee  of  two  thalers.  The  postmasters  and  messenger  chiefs 
appear  to  have  been  paid  somewhat  l>etter  for  their  ser- 
vices, which  were  indeed  more  valuable.  At  least,  we 
know  that  in  the  year  1615  the  postmaster  at  Frankfurt, 
Johann  von  der  Birghden.  who  furnished  a  great  number 
of  German  princes  with  news.*''  was  in  receipt  of  a  yearly 
salary  of  60  florins  for  supplying  the  electoral  court  of 
Mainz  with  the  weekly  newspapers.'* 

"C.  D.  V.  Witzk'bcn.  Gesch.  d.  Leifsiger  Zeitung  (Leipzig,  i860),  pp. 
5-6.  The  Saxon  court  in  i6.'9  maintained  similar  agents  in  Vienna, 
Berlin.  Brunswick,  .\ugsburg.  Ulm,  Breslau,  Hamburg,  Liibec, 
Prague,  Amsterdam,  at  the  Hapiie.  and  in  Hungary. 

"Comp.  Opel,  as  above,  pp   28,  (6 

"'*  Fauthaber,  Gesch.  </.  I'vst  m  Irankiurl-a.-M.  (Archiv,  f.  Frankf. 
Gesch.  u.  Kunst.  New  Series,  XI.  pp.  31,  toff. 


ill 


232 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


Even  in  the  seventeenth  century  the  wrritten  newspapers 
appear  not  to  have  made  their  way  to  wider  circles.  They 
were  still  too  costly  for  that. 

At  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  and  in  the  seventeenth 
century  we  find  written  newspapers  in  France  and  Eng- 
land, as  well  as  in  Germany  and  Italy.  In  France  they  are 
-"  " ed  nouvellcs  a  la  main;  in  England,  news-letters.  In  both 
countries  they  are  confined  to  the  capital  city. 

The  line  of  development  in  Paris  is  the  more  interest- 
ing: it  may  be  said  indeed  that  the  most  primitive  of  all 
newspapers,  the  precursor  of  the  written  newspaper,  is  to 
be  found  there.    It  is  the  related,  or  spoken,  paper." 

In  the  turbulent  times  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth 
centuries  groups  of  Parisian  burghers  would  assemble  each 
evening  on  the  street  corners,  on  the  Pont  Neuf,  and  on 
the  public  squares,  bringing  together  the  news  of  the  day 
and  making  their  own  comments  upon  it.  As  is  easily 
conceivable,  there  were  among  these  groups  individuals 
who  became  adepts  in  the  collection  and  repetition  of  news. 
Gradually  method  and  organization  were  introduced;  the 
so-called  nouvellistes  held  regular  meetings,  exchanged 
their  news  with  each  other,  and  made  comments  thereon, 
discussed  politics,  and  laid  plans. 

"  Comp.  Hatin,  Histoire  de  la  presse  en  France,  Vol.  I,  pp.  32-33-  I  An 
interesting  present-day  instance  of  the  "  spoken "  newspaper,  which 
may  indeed  nut  be  so  very  rare  a  phenomenon,  is  given  in  a  sketch 
of  Swiss  life  in  the  little  village  of  Champcry  by  a  recent  writer  in 
the  Canadian  Magazine.  "  On  three  of  the  houses  of  the  village,"  it 
is  stated.  "  are  curious  balconies,  which  are  in  reality  old  pulpits, 
once  used  for  open-air  preaching.  They  now  serve  the  place  of  the 
country  newspaper,  for  en  Sundays,  after  mass,  a  man  calls  out  from 
them  the  news  of  the  week,  what  there  is  for  sale,  what  cattle  have 
been  stolen  or  have  strayed,  and  other  items  of  interest  to  those  who 
have  come  down  for  the  day  from  the  isolation  of  the  high  moun- 
tains."—.S"7t»M  Ufe  and  Scenery,  by  E.  Fanny  Jones.  Can.  Mag.,  Aug. 
1898,  p.  287.— Ed.  i 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


233 


The  writers  of  the  time  treat  these  groups  with  never- 
ending  satire;  the  comic  dramatists  seize  the  fruitful  theme, 
and  even  Montesquieu  devotes  to  them  one  of  the  most 
entertaining  of  his  Lettres  Persancs}^ 

What  was  at  the  outset  a  mere  pastime  for  news-hunters 
and  idlers,  enterprising  brains  soon  developed  into  a  busi- 
ness. They  undertook  to  supply  regular  news  to  people 
of  rank  and  standing.  Men  in  high  station  kept  a  nouvel- 
liste  as  they  kept  a  hair-dresser  or  surgeon.  Mazarin,  for 
instance,  paid  such  a  servant  10  livres  per  month. 

These  groups  of  nouvellistes  soon  began  to  seek  cus- 
tomers in  the  Provinces  also,  and  these,  of  course,  could  be 
supplied  only  by  letter.  Each  group  had  its  particular 
editorial  and  copying  bureau,  and  its  special  sources  for 
court  and  official  news.  The  subscribers  paid  a  fixed  sum, 
according  to  the  number  of  pages  that  they  desired  each 
week.  Thus  originated  the  celebrated  nouvellcs  a  la  main, 
which,  in  spite  of  many  prosecutions  on  the  part  of  the 
government,  lasted  till  well  towards  the  end  of  last  cen- 
tury, and  which  were  often  sent  abroad  as  well.'^  That 
which  gave  them  a  firm  footing  along  with  the  printed 
newspapers  was,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  circumstance  that 
they  rendered  the  secrecy  of  the  government  system 
largely  illusory,  and  further,  took  the  liberty  now  and 
then  of  animadverting  on  public  conditions.'^ 

In  England  likewise  the  nczvs-lcttcrs,  more  especially 
devoted  to  furnishing  the  country  nobility  with  the  news 
of  the  capital  anrl  the  court,  maintained  themselves  well 
"(Euvres  computes  (Paris,  1857),  p.  87,  Lettre  CXXX. 
"La  Gasette  de  la  Rcgencc.  janvicr  iriS—juin  ///p.  publicf  d'apres  le 
manuscrit  inedit  conserre  a  la  Ribliolhcque  royale  de  La  Uaye.  par  Le  Comte 
E.  de  Barthilemy  (Paris,  1887)  gives  a  description  of  the  contents  of 
these  sheets. 

'*  Similarly  in  Austria:   Joh.  Winckler,  Die  period.  Presse  Oesterreichs 
(Vienna,  1875),  pp  ag-q. 


ft 


ft! 


234  THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNAUSM. 

into  the  eighteenth  century.  The  printed  newspapers  of 
that  epoch  indeed  adapted  themselves  to  the  system  to 
the  extent  of  appearing  with  two  printed  and  two  un- 
printed  pages,  thereby  enabling  their  subscribers  to  send 
them  to  others,  enriched  with  additional  notes  m  writing. 

Thus  we  see  that  at  about  the  same  time  in  all  the  ad- 
vanced countries  of  Europe  the  written  newspaper  anses 
as  a  medium-of  course,  as  yet  a  decidedly  restricted  me- 
dium-of  news  publication,  and  maintains  itself  for  more 
than  two  hundred  years.  It  is,  however,  most  remarkable 
that  the  production  of  these  written  news-sheets  as  a  busi- 
ness can  nowhere  be  traced  beyond  the  period  of  the  in- 
vention of  printing.  In  this  connection  the  question 
naturally  arises,  why  the  printing-press  was  not  taken  into 
the  service  of  the  regular  news  publication. 

The  question  is  answered  by  the  simple  fact  that  even  in 
young  colonial  countries  with  an  European  population  ac- 
customed at  home  to  printed  newspapers,  the  written  pre- 
ceded the  printed  news-sheets.  This  was  true  of  the 
English  colonies  in  America  at  the  beginning  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century,-  and  of  the  colony  of  West  Australia  in 
18^0  "  This  proves  that  it  could  not  have  been  so  much 
the  pressure  of  the  censorship,  that  so  long  delayed  the 
employment  of  the  press  for  news  publication,  as  the  lack 

pp,  14  ft.;  Hatm.  a»  *<'"■  P^  '       '  ,,„,  ,bat  likc«ise  in 

(New  York.  1873).  PP-  5'  «• 
"  Andrews,  as  above,  Vul.  IT,  pp.  3'- ff-  ^ 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNjIUSM. 


23S 


; 


of  a  sufficiently  large  circle  of  readers  to  guarantee  the 
sale  necessary  to  meet  the  cost  of  printing. 

However,  since  as  far  back  as  the  close  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  special  numbers  of  those  written  newspapers  con- 
taining matter  of  a  presumably  broader  interest  were  fre- 
quently printed.  These  were  the  one-page  prints  issued  by 
enterprising  publishers  under  the  name  of  "  Ncue  Zeitmtg," 
and  disposed  of  at  fairs  and  markets.  Collections  are  to 
be  found  in  every  old  library.22  The  oldest  of  these 
prints  is  a  report  of  the  obsequies  of  Emperor  Frederick 
III  from  the  year  1493.  From  that  time  till  the  sixteenth 
century  had  run  its  course  they  continued  to  hold  their 
own;  but  with  the  growth  of  periodical  news-sheets, 
they  became  rarer,  and  finally,  in  the  eighteenth,  disap- 
peared. The  earliest  numbers  bear  either  no  title  at  all  or 
take  their  title  from  the  contents.  The  name  Zeitung, 
or  newspaper,  for  such  a  loose  sheet  appears  for  the  first 
time  in  1505.  We  find,  however,  various  other  appella- 
tions; for  example,  Letter,  Relation,  Tale,  News,  Descrip- 
tion, Report,  Advice,  Post,  Postilion,  Courier,  Rumour, 
Despatch,  Letter-bag.^^  To  these  all  kinds  of  qualifying 
titles  are  frequently  added,  such  as  Circumstantial  News, 
Truthful  and  Reliable  Description,  Faithful  Description, 
Truthful  Relation,  Review  and  Contents,  Historical  Dis- 
course, and  Detailed  Explanation;  very  often  we  have: 
New  and  Truthful  Tidings,  Truthful  and  terrible  Tidings, 
Wonderful,  terrible,  pitiful  Tidings.  In  England  some  of 
the  titles  are:  Newes,  Newe  Newes,  Thiding,  Woful 
Newes,  Wonderful  and  strange  News,  Lamentable  News; 

"Treated  bibiographically  by  Weller,  Die  erstcn  deutsch.  Zcituugen 
(Bibliothek  d.  Iterar.  Vereins,  Vol.  LXI).  Supple'..ent  to  same  in 
the  "  Germania,"  XXVI,  p.  106. 

"Brief.  Relatiot,,  Mar,  Nachricht,  Beschreihung.  Bericht.  Aviso.  Post, 
Postillion,  Kurier,  Fama,  Depesehe.  FeUHsen. 


.  -.tli.l  . 


iilii' 


836 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


and  in  France:  Discours,  Memorable  Discours,  Nouvelles, 
Recit,  Courier,  Messager,  Postilion,  Mercure,  etc. 

The  titles,  we  notice,  are  sensational  and  pretentious. 
The  contents  vary  greatly.  In  the  great  majority  of  cases 
they  consist  of  political  news;  argument  remains  altogether 
in  the  background.  The  written  news-letters  are  the  chief, 
though  not  the  sole,  source  for  these  fugitive  productions 
of  the  printing-press.  Ordinarily,  the  one-page  prints  are 
independent  of  each  other;  and  only  here  and  there  at  the 
end  of  the  sixteenth  century  can  several  consecutive  num- 
bers be  instanced;  but  this  is  not  sufficient  to  justify  us  in 
supposing  a  periodical  issue.  These  loose  sheets,  however, 
at  least  prepare  the  way,  as  regards  form  and  matter,  for 
the  printed  newspaper  with  its  regular  issues.  And  they 
render  a  like  service  in  so  far  as  they  awakened  among  the 
masses  an  interest  in  occurrences  reaching  beyond  mere 
parish  affairs. 

The  first  printed  periodical  news  collections  begin  as 
early  as  the  sixteenth  century.  They  are  annual  publica- 
tions, the  so-called  Postreuter  (postilions)  or  news  epit- 
omes whose  contents  may  in  a  manner  be  compared  with 
the  political  reviews  of  the  year  in  our  popular  calendars.** 

These  are  supplemented  by  semi-annual  news  sum- 
maries, the  so-called  Relationcs  semestralcs  or  Fair  Reports. 
They  were  begun  between  1580  and  1590  by  Michael  von 
Aitzing.  They  drew  their  information  chiefly  from  the 
regular  post  and  traders'  newspapers,  and  for  more  than 
two  centuries  formed  one  of  the  chief  articles  of  sale  at 
the  Frankfurt  fair,  and  later  on  at  the  Leipzig  spring  and 
fall  fairs  as  well.^^     The  first  printed  weekly  of  which  we 

"According  to  Prutz,  cited  above,  p.  179.  they  appeared  as  early  as 
the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

"  F.  Stieve,  Ueber  d.  dltest.  halbj'dhrig.  Zeitungen  odtr  Missrelationen, 
u.  ir.sbesond.  iiber  derm  Rcgriindcr.     Frhm.  Michael  <on  Aitzing:  Abh, 


THE  GENESIS    OF  jOURNAUSM.  237 

have  direct  information  is  a  Strassburg  sheet,  whose  num- 
bers for  the  year  1609  are  found  in  the  University  library 
at  Heidelberg,  while  fragments  of  later  years  are  pre- 
served in  the  public  library  at  Zurich.2«     Jt  corresponds 
exactly  in  matter  and  form  with  the  regular  despatches 
Y.hich  the  post  brought  weekly  from  :..e  chief  collecting 
places  of  the  news  trade.    It  was  soon  imitated;  and  after 
the  beginning  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War  the  growth  in  the 
number  of  pnnted  weeklies  was  particularly  rapid.     We 
have  evidence  of  the  exisience  of  about  two  dozen  in  the 
second  and  third  decades  01  the  seventeenth  century.    They 
were    established    chiefly    by    book-printers;    though    in 
numerous  places  the  post  assumed,  naturally  with  varying 
success,  the  right  of  printing  despatches  as  a  part  of  its 
prerogative.     While  in  Frankfurt,  Leipzig,  Munich.  Col- 
logue, and  Hamburg  the  old  connection  between  post  and 
newspaper  continued  for  a  considerable  time,  the  publica- 
tion of  news  was  in  many  other  towns  completely  absorbed 
by  the  book-printers,  a  fact  of  the  greatest  moment  for  its 
further  development. 

Germany  is  the  first  country  that  can  show  printed 
newspapers  appearing  regularly  at  brief  intervals.  The 
English  and  the  Dutch  claims  to  the  honour  of  having 
produced  the  earliest  printed  weeklies  are  now  generally 
abandoned.    England  can  point  to  nothing  similar  before 

the  year  1622:  the  first  French  weeklv  sheet  appeared  in 
163 1. 2T  '* 

der  k.  bayer  Akad.  d.  Wiss.,  III.  CI.  XVI,  p.  ,  (Munich.  1881). 
Cotnp.  also  Ort.i.  Ausfiihrl  Abhand.  von  d.  bcriihmtcn  zwocn  Reichs- 
*"^sse„  so  ,n  d.  ieichsstadt  Frankfurt-a.-M .  jahrlk:  abgehaltm  werden 
(Frankfurt,  1765]  pp.  7,4  ff.;  Prutz,  as  above,  pp.  188  IT  •  J  von 
Schwarzkopf,  Ueb^r  potitische  u.  gelehrte  Zeitungen  in  Frankf'urt-a  -M 


1802. 


'  Opel,  as  above,  pp.  44  ff. 

'  [See  article  Nmspapers  in  the  hncy.  Brit,  and  the  literature  th 


given, — Ed.1 


ere 


*;H 


338 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


!■ 


iiill!' 


It  will  perhaps  seem  strange  that  a  leap  was  made  di- 
rectly from  half-yearly  reports  to  weekly  publications 
without  a  transitional  stage  of  monthly  reports.  It  must, 
however,  not  be  forgotten  that  the  collection  of  news,  as 
well  as  the  distribution  of  the  news-sheets,  had  to  conform 
to  the  peculiar  commercial  facilities  of  the  time.  The  most 
important  of  these  were  the  fairs  and  the  stage-posts.  The 
semi-annual  fairs  made  possible  the  distribution  of  the 
printed  news  from  one  great  centre  of  trade  and  travel  to 
even  the  most  remote  points.  But  the  stage-posts  tra- 
versed the  chief  trade-routes  once  a  week  each  way.  The 
leap  from  the  half-yearly  to  the  weekly  reports  lay  thus  in 
the  nature  of  things. 

By  the  weekly  newspapers  the  impetus  was  given  to  the 
essentially  modern  development  of  the  press.  Yet  it  was  a 
considerable  time  before  the  first  daily  newspapers  ap- 
peared. This  occurred  in  Germany  in  1660  {Leipziger 
Zcitung),  in  England  in  1702  {Daily  Courant),  in  France  in 
I  jjj  {Journal  de  Paris). 

We  need  not  pursue  this  theme  down  to  our  cosmopol- 
itan papers  that  appear  three  times  a  day.  The  distin- 
guishing feature  of  the  latter  as  contrasted  with  the  written 
newspaper  of  the  sixteenth  century  is  not  so  much  the 
magnitude  of  ♦'^e  organization  for  procuring  news  and  the 
rapidity  in  trar.smitting  it,  as  the  transformation  in  the 
nature  of  the  contents,  particularly  the  advertising,  and 
the  influence  thereby  exerted  on  pul)lic  opinion,  and,  con- 
sequently, on  the  course  of  the  world's  history. 

For  the  sixteenth  century  the  network  of  agencies  for 
the  regular  collection  of  news  already  described,  was  with- 
out doubt  magnificent.  There  runs  through  it  a  modern 
characteristic,  the  characteristic  of  uniting  individual 
forces  in  divided  labour  towards  a  single  end.  In  the  de- 
partment of  news  collection  there  has  been  little  advance 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


»39 


since  the  sixteenth  century.  The  whole  subsequent  de- 
velopment of  the  newspaper  in  this  direction  rests  on  the 
separation  of  news  collection  from  news  despatch  (post), 
and  on  the  commercial  organization  of  the  former  into 
correspondence  bureaux  and  telegraph  agencies.  To  the 
telegraph  agencies  have  fallen  the  duties  of  the  earlier 
postmasters  and  news-scribes,  but  with  this  difference,  that 
they  no  longer  labour  directly  for  the  newspaper  readers, 
but  supply  the  publishing  house  with  half-finished  wares, 
making  use  in  such  woik  of  the  perfected  commercial  ma- 
chinery of  modem  times. 

Again,  the  further  development  of  news  publication  in 
the  field  that  it  has  occupied  since  the  more  general 
ioption  of  the  printing-press,  has  been  peculiar.  At  the 
outset  the  publisher  of  a  periodical  printed  newspaper  dif- 
fered in  no  wise  from  the  publisher  of  any  other  printed 
work— for  instance,  of  a  pamphlet  or  a  book.  He  was  but 
the  multiplier  and  seller  of  a  literary  product,  over  whose 
content  he  had  no  control.  The  newspaper  publisher  mar- 
keted the  regular  post-news  in  its  printed  form  just  as  an- 
other publisher  oflFered  the  public  a  herbal  or  an  edition  of 
an  old  writer. 

But  this  soon  changed.  It  was  readily  perceived  that 
the  contents  of  a  newspaper  number  did  not  form  an 
entity  in  the  same  sense  as  the  contents  of  a  book  or  pam- 
phlet. The  news-items  there  brought  together,  taken 
from  different  sources,  were  of  varying  reliability.  They 
needed  to  be  used  judicially  and  critically:  in  this  a  polit- 
ical or  religious  bias  could  find  ready  expression.  In  a  still 
higher  degree  was  this  the  case  when  men  began  to  discuss 
contempoiary  political  questions  in  the  newspapers  and 
to  employ  them  as  a  medium  for  disseminating  party 
opinions. 

This  took  place  first  in  England  during  the  Long  Parlia- 


n 


%*\ 


240 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


m 


ment  and  the  Revolution  of  1649.  The  Netherlands  and  a 
part  of  the  imperial  free  towns  of  Germany  followed  later. 
In  France  the  change  was  not  consummated  before  the  era 
of  the  great  Revolution:  in  most  other  countries  it  oc- 
curred in  the  nineteenth  century.  The  newspaper,  from 
being  a  mere  vehicle  for  the  publication  of  news,  became 
an  instrument  for  supporting  and  shaping  public  opinion 
and  a  weapon  of  party  politics. 

The  effect  of  this  upon  the  internal  organization  of  the 
newspaper  undertaking  was  to  introduce  a  third  depart- 
ment, the  editorship,  between  news  collecting  and  news 
publication.  For  the  newspaper  publisher,  however,  it  sig- 
nified that  from  a  mere  seller  of  news  he  had  become  a 
dealer  in  public  opinion  as  well. 

At  first  this  meant  nothing  more  than  that  the  publisher 
was  placed  in  a  position  to  shift  a  portion  of  the  risk  of  his 
undertaking  upon  a  party  organization,  a  circle  of  inter- 
ested persons,  or  a  government.  If  the  leanings  of  the 
paper  were  distasteful  to  the  readers  they  ceased  to  buy 
the  paper.  Their  wishes  thus  remained,  in  the  final  analy- 
sis, the  determining  factor  for  the  contents  of  the  news- 
papers. 

The  gradually  expanding  circulation  of  the  pnnted 
newspapers  nevertheless  soon  led  to  their  employment  by 
the  authorities  for  making  public  announcements.  With 
this  came,  in  the  first  quarter  of  last  century,  the  extension 
of  private  announcements,'^  which  have  now  attained, 
through  the  so-called  advertising  bureattx,^^  some  such  or- 
ganization as  political  news  collecting  possesses  in  the  cor- 
respondence bureaux. 

"  At  first,  it  would  seem,  in  special  advice  or  intelligence  sheets 
which  in  many  cases  come  from  general  agencies  (Inquiry  of!ices, 
Bureaux  of  Information).    Comp.  F.  Mangold,  in  Basler  Jhrb.,  1897. 

"  AHno»ccn-Exi>ediliontn. 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM.  241 

By  admitting  advertisements  the  newspaper  fell  into  a 
peculiarly  ambiguous  position.  For  the  subscription  price 
it  formerly  published  only  news  and  opinions  of  general  in- 
terest; now,  through  all  sorts  of  advertisements,  for  which 
it  receives  special  remuneration,  it  also  serves  private  trade 
and  private  interests.  It  sells  news  to  its  readers,  and  it 
sells  its  circle  of  readers  to  any  private  interest  capable  of 
paying  the  price.  In  the  same  paper,  often  on  the  same 
page,  where  the  highest  interests  of  mankind  are,  or  at 
least  should  be,  represented,  buyers  and  sellers  ply  their 
vocations  in  ignoble  greed  of  gain.  For  the  uninitiated 
it  is  often  difficult  to  distinguish  where  the  interests  of  the 
public  cease  and  private  interests  begin. 

This  is  all  the  more  dangerous  in  that  in  the  course  of 
the  past  century  the  subjects  discussed  on  the  editorial 
page  of  the  newspapers  have  grown  to  embrace  almost  the 
whole  range  of  human  interests.  Statecraft,  provincial 
and  local  administration,  the  administration  of  justice,  art 
in  all  its  manifestations,  technology,  economic  and  social 
life  in  its  manifold  phases,  are  reflected  in  the  daily  press; 
and  since  the  development  of  the  feuilleton,  a  good  pro- 
portion of  literary  and  even  of  scientific  products  flows 
into  this  great  stream  of  contemporary  social  and  mental 
life.  The  book  as  a  form  of  publication — we  may  have 
no  doubts  on  the  point — loses  ground  from  year  to  year. 

It  is  impossible  to  enter  into  these  matters  at  greater 
length.  The  sole  aim  of  this  cursory  survey  of  the  mod- 
ern development  of  journalism  has  been  to  give,  from 
the  view-point  of  historical  evolution,  the  beginnings  of 
the  newspaper  press  their  proper  setting,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  show  how  the  gathering  of  news  has  been  con- 
ditioned at  each  epoch  by  general  conditions  of  trade. 

The  Roman  newspaper  is  one  feature  in  the  autonomous 
administration  of  the  wealthy  and  aristocratic  household. 


K^\ 


I 


i|' 


I 


242  WE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 

A  news-clerk  was  kept,  just  as  was  a  body-surgeon  or  a 
librarian.  In  most  cases  he  is  the  property,  the  slave,  of 
the  news-reader,  working  according  to  the  directions  of 

his  master. 

In  the  written  newspaper  of  the  sixteenth  century  there 
is  exhibited  the  same  handicraft  character  then  domi- 
nating all  branches  of  higher  economic  activity.  The  news- 
writer,  on  demand  and  for  a  definite  price,  furnishes  di- 
rectly to  a  circle  of  patrons  the  news  that  he  had  gathered 
—in  which  proceeding  he  doubtless  suits  the  amount  to 
the  latter's  needs.    He  is  reporter,  editor,  and  publisher  in 

one. 

The  modem  newspaper  is  a  capitalistic  enterprise,  a  sort 
of  news-factory  in  which  a  great  number  of  people  (cor- 
respondents,   editors,    typesetters,    correctors,  machine- 
tenders,  collectors  of  advertisements,  office-clerks,  messen- 
gers, etc.)  are  employed  on  wage,  under  a  single  adminis- 
tration, at  very  specialized  work.     This  paper  produces 
wares  for  an  unknown  circle  of  readers,  from  whom  it  is, 
furthermore',  frequently  separated  by  intermediaries,  such 
as  delivery  agencies  and  postal  institutions.    The  simple 
needs  of  the  reader  or  of  the  circle  of  patrons  no  longer  de- 
termine the  quality  of  these  wares;  it  is  now  the  very  com- 
plicated conditions  of  competition  in  the  publication  mar- 
ket.   In  this  market,  however,  as  generally  in  wholesale 
markets,   the   consumers   of  the   goods,   the   newspaper 
readers,  take  no  direct  part;  the  determining  factors  are 
the  wholesale  dealers  and  the  speculators  in  news:  the  gov- 
ernments, the  telegraph  bureaux  dependent   upon  their 
special  correspondents,  the  political  parties,  artistic  and 
scientific  cliques,  men  on  'change,  and  last  but  not  least, 
the  advertising  agencies  and  large  individual  advertisers. 

Each  number  of  a  great  journal  which  appears  to-day  is 
a  m.^rvpl  of  economic  division  of  labour,  capitalistic  organ- 


THE  GENESIS  OF  JOURNALISM. 


243 


ization,  and  mechanical  technique;  it  is  an  instrument  of  in- 
tellectual and  economic  intercourse,  in  which  the  potencies 
of  all  other  instruments  of  commerce — the  railway,  the 
post,  the  telegraph,  and  the  telephone — are  united  as  in  a 
focus.  But  our  eyes  can  linger  with  satisfaction  on  no  spot 
where  capitalism  comes  into  contact  with  intellectual  life; 
and  so  we  can  take  but  half-hearted  pleasure  in  this  ac- 
quisition of  modem  civilization.  It  would  indeed  be  diffi- 
cult for  us  to  believe  that  the  newspaper  in  its  present  de- 
velopment is  destined  to  constitute  the  highest  and  final 
medium  for  the  supplying  of  news.** 

**  [Comp.  Mr.  Alfred  Harmsworth  on  The  Newspapers  of  the  Twen- 
tieth Century  in  North  Amer.  Rev.,  Jan.  1901. — Ed.] 


SI 


•  i 


i       Uu 


CHAPTER  VII. 

UNION    OF    LABOUR    AND    LABOUR   IN    COMMON. 

There  is  in  Germany  perhaps  scarcely  a  modern  text- 
book or  contemporary  course  of  university  lectures  on 
political  economy  in  which  some  ment.on  ,s  "ot  m^le  o 
the  principle  of  union  of  labour  and  some  remark  offe  e 
thereon.    No  one  has  really  much  to  say  about  it.    \  et  it 
is  there,  and  has  its  traditional  place  after  the  section  on 
the  division  of  labour,  where,  if  it  be  thought  at  all  worthy 
of  it   it  receives  with  regularity  its  paragraph,  to  come  to 
light'  no  more  in  the  later  text  of  the  book  or  lecture. 

And  so  it  has  been  for  more  than  half  a  century.  But  a 
science  cannot  be  lenient  with  concepts  that  are  not  fitted 
to  give  a  deeper  insight  into  a  series  of  phenomena,  simply 
because  thev  have  once  gained  currency,  it  is  at  length 
time  for  a  closer  investigation  of  this  ancient  inyentonal 
item  in  order,  if  it  is  really  unserviceable,  to  discard  ,t.  or  to 
assign  it  its  proper  place  should  it  be  found  useful  in  fur- 
thering our  knowledge.  . 

According  to  the  text-books,  union  of  labour  is  nothmg 
more  nor  less  than  "the  other  side  of  division  of  labour;    or 
"  division  of  labour  viewe.l  from  the  standpoint  o   the  or^- 
ganizing  unit;"  '  the  "  correlative  of  division  of  labour; 
"the  reverse  side  of  the  medal  whose  obverse  side  is  the 

>  Roll,  in  Philippovicb.  (:ru„dr,ss  </.  toUt.  (V/;.  (2A  cd.).  p.  78. 
•  M Mt    Crun^irUs  d.  lolks-.v^rthschaftslfhre.  9  29. 


UNlOhl  OF  L/tBOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON.         24S 

division  of  labour,"  ^  These  are  all  somewhat  vague  ex- 
pressions, which  on  the  whole  ^>eem  to  have  their  origin  in 
the  view  that  if  labour  is  divided  it  must  also  be  reunited, 
since  the  separate  parts  cannot  exist  independently.  Here 
then  the  idea  of  division  of  labour  is  either  conceived  of 
very  restrictedly — somewhat  after  the  manner  of  Adam 
Smith's  pin-manufactory — in  which  case  the  unifying  force 
is  supplied  by  the  capital  of  the  entrepreneur;  or  the  con- 
ception is  broadened  to  embrace  the  so-called  social 
division  of  labour,  in  which  case  the  labour-uniting  element 
must  be  furnished  by  trade;  so  that  union  of  labour  would 
be  synonymous  with  commercial  organization  generally. 

In  fact,  Roscher,  who  gives  the  most  detailed  treatment 
of  the  subject,  and  to  whom  all  later  writers  resort,  re- 
garded the  subject  in  this  light.*  Division  of  labour  and 
union  of  labour  are  in  his  view,  "  but  two  different  aspects 
of  the  same  conception,  namely,  social  labour:  separation  of 
tasks  so  far  as  they  would  incommode  one  another,  and 
their  union  in  so  far  as  they  aid  one  another."  "  The  vine- 
dresser and  the  flax-grower,"  he  continues,  "  would  neces- 
sarily die  of  hunger  if  they  could  not  count  for  certain  on 
the  grower  of  grain;  the  workman  in  the  pin-factory  who 
merely  prepares  the  pin-heads  must  be  sure  of  his  comrade 
who  sharpens  the  points  if  his  labour  is  not  to  be  entirely 
in  vain;  while  the  labour  of  a  merchant  simply  cannot  be 
conceived  of  without  that  of  the  different  producers  be- 
tween whom  he  acts  as  intermediary." 

The  whole  phenomenon  is  thus  shrouded  in  the  mists  of 
processes  of  commerce  and  of  organization;  it  is  made 
synonymous  with  economy  generally.  In  particular  it  alto- 
gether loses  its  correlation  with  the  notion  of  division  of 

•  Kleinwachter.   Die  rolksw.  Produktion  in   Schonberg's   Handbook, 
* Pnncifks  of  Foiiiical  Economy  (New  York,  187S),  I,  pp.  203-4. 


I 


if 


ir  1  ■' 


I 

V     1 


246         UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

labour.  For  the  rest,  Roscher  discusses  at  length  only  the 
constancy  of  the  progress  of  civilization — which  is  realized 
by  each  generation  leaving  to  its  successors  the  augmented 
inheritance  of  its  predecessors;  and  further,  the  advantage 
of  large  undertakings  and  the  association  of  small  ones 
whereby  labour  ultimately  disappears  almost  completely 
from  the  horizon. 

Roscher  in  all  this  goes  back  to  Frederick  List,*  who, 
in  his  theor>-  of  the  development  of  national  productive 
powers,  was  the  first  in  Germany,  as  far  as  I  am  aware,  to 
use  the  expression  "  union  of  labour."  Moreover,  he 
turned  it  to  peculiar  account.  Starting  from  a  criticism  of 
the  "  natural  law  "  of  division  of  labour,  neither  Adam 
Smith  nor  any  of  his  successors  have,  in  List's  opinion, 
thoroughly  investigated  the  essential  nature  and  character 
of  this  law  or  followed  it  out  to  its  most  important  conse- 
quences. The  very  expression  "  division  of  labour  "  was 
inadequate,  he  says,  and  necessarily  produced  a  false  con- 
ception. He  then  continues:  "  It  is  division  of  labour  if 
one  savage  on  one  and  the  same  day  goes  hunting  or  fish- 
ing, cuts  down  wood,  repairs  his  wigwam,  and  makes  ready 
arrows,  nets,  and  clothes;  but  it  is  also  division  of  labour 
if,  as  in  the  example  cited  by  Adam  Smith,  ten  different 
persons  share  in  the  different  occupations  connected  with 
the  manufacture  of  a  p:.i.  The  former  is  an  objective,  and 
the  latter  a  subjective  division  of  labour;  the  former  hin- 
ders, the  latter  furthers  production.  The  essential  differ- 
ence between  the  two  is  that  in  the  former  one  person 
(liviles  his  work  so  as  to  produce  various  objects,  while  in 
the  latter  several  persons  share  in  the  production  of  a  single 
object." 

"  Both  operations,  on  the  other  hand,"  we  read  further, 


'  The  National  System  of  Political  Economy  (London,  1885),  pp.  149  ff- 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  /1ND   LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


247 


"  may  with  equal  correctness  be  called  a  union  of  labour; 
the  savage  unites  various  tasks  in  his  person,  while  in  the 
case  of  the  pin-manufacture  various  persons  are  united  in 
one  work  of  production  in  common.  The  essential  charac- 
ter of  the  natural  law  from  which  the  popular  school  ex- 
plains such  important  phenomena  in  social  economy,  is 
evidently  not  merely  a  division  of  labour  but  a  division 
of  different  commercial  operations  among  several  indi- 
viduals, and  at  the  same  time  a  federation  or  union  of 
various  energies,  intelligences  and  powers  in  a  common 
production.  The  cause  of  the  productiveness  of  these  opera- 
tions is  not  merely  the  division,  but  essentially  this  union." 

This  latter  List  develops  further,  and  upon  it  endeavours 
to  base  the  demand  for  the  establishment  of  a  harmony  of 
the  productive  pozvers  in  the  nation.  The  highest  division  of 
occupations  and  the  highest  unification  of  the  productive 
powers  in  material  production  are  found  in  agriculture 
and  manufacturing.  ''  A  nation  devoting  itself  exclusively 
to  agriculture  is  like  an  individual  engaged  in  material 
production  with  one  arm  gone,"  etc. 

Free  these  explanations  from  the  ingenious  rhetoric  of 
the  great  agitator,  and  we  find,  as  so  often,  that  he  has 
been  unjust  towards  Adam  Smith.  The  latter  in  no  way 
overlooks  the  fact,  as  List  is  frank  enough  to  admit,  that 
division  of  lal)our  postulates  a  cooperation  of  forces;  and 
at  the  close  of  his  celebrated  chapter  on  division  of  labour 
he  explains  expressly  that  by  means  of  this  joint  labour 
the  meanest  person  in  a  civilized  country  may  attain  a 
more  ample  accommodation  than  an  African  king."  But 
he  was  keen-sighted  enough  not  to  regard  this  fact,  which 
was  involved  in  the  nature  of  division  of  labour  and  iden- 
tical with  it,  as  an  independent  economic  phenomenon. 


-^.J 


•  Book  I,  Chapter  I,  towards  end. 


a48        UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


i 


H 


m 


'1' .,  - 


What  purpose  would  it  serve  to  call  the  same  thing  at  one 
time  division  of  labour  and  at  another  union  of  labour,  ac- 
cording as  it  was  viewed  from  one  side  or  the  other?  In  a 
young  science  that  would  have  been  only  a  source  of  con- 
fusion. 

Of  course  the  procedure  of  the  Indian  who  successively 
hunts,  fishes,  fells  trees,  etc.,  would  never  have  been  recog- 
nised by  Adam  Smith  as  a  particular  instance  of  division 
of  labour.  On  the  contrar>',  he  would  have  designated  it 
undivided  labour,^  a  condition  such  as  preceded  division 
of  labour  throughout  society.  Division  of  labour  is  for 
him  something  else  than  division  of  time. 

Of  the  factor  of  time  in  the  disposal  of  labour  List  speaks 
more  at  length  in  another  place.*    He  there  explains  that 
the  individual   branches  of  industry  in  a  country   only 
gradually  gain  possession  of  improved  processes,  machin- 
ery, buildings,  advantages  in  production,  experiences  and 
skill,  and  all  those  details  of  information  and  connections 
that  insure  to  them  the  profitable  purchase  of  their  raw 
material  and  the  profitable  sale  of  their  products.     It  is 
easier,  he  believes,  to  perfect  and  extend  a  business  already 
established  than  to  found  a  new  one;  easier  to  produce 
superior  goods  at  moderate  prices  in  a  branch  of  industry 
long  domiciled  in  a  country  than  in  a  newly-established 
one.  "  A-  in  all  human  institutions,  so  in  industry  there  lies 
at  the  root  of  important  achievements  a  law  of  nature  that 
has  much  in  common  with  the  natural  law  of  the  division  of 
laboi"-  and  of  the  federation  of  productive  forces.    Its  es- 
sential feature  consists  in  several  successive  generations 
as  it  were  uniting  their  forces  towards  one  and  the  same 
end,  and  as  it  were  dividing  among  them  the  expenditure 
of  energy  necessary  to  its  attainment."    List  calls  this  the 
'On  his  conception  of  division  of  labour,  compare  following  chapter. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON.         249 

principle  of  stability  and  continuity  of  work,  and  seeks  to 
prove  its  operation  in  history  by  a  series  of  examples:  the 
superiority  in  strength  of  a  hereditary  over  an  elective 
monarchy,  the  transmission  of  the  acquisitions  of  human 
knowledge  *hrough  printing,  the  influence  of  the  caste 
system  upon  the  maintenance  and  development  of  indus- 
trial skill,  the  building  of  cathedrals  in  the  Middle  Ages 
during  several  generations.  The  system  of  public  debts  by 
which  "  the  present  generation  makes  a  draft  on  a  future 
gent-  ation  "  is  also  cited  as  a  peculiariy  apt  instance  of 
the  application  of  the  principle  of  continuity  in  work. 

It  is  easily  seen  that  List  here  is  dealing  only  with  a 
rhetorically  clad  analogy  to  union  of  labour.    This,  how- 
ever, has  not  prevented  later  writers  from  forming  out  of 
"  continuity  of  work  "  a  special  type  of  union  of  labour, 
although  a  little  reflection  might  have  taught  them  that  it 
is  a  phenomenon  not  at  all  peculiar  to  economic  activity. 
Continuity  of  work  is  the  universal  historical  principle  of 
social  development  by  which  man  is  distin<^uished  from  the 
animal.     With  each  lower  animal  begins  anew  a  similar 
existence  which  runs  its  course,  so  far  as  we  know,  to-day 
as  thousands  of  years  ago.  leaving  not  a  record,  not  a  trace. 
But  each  human  generation  takes  over  the  fruits  of  the 
civilization  of  all  preceding  generations,  and  iiands  them 
down  with  an  increase  to  the  succeeding  age.    This  is  true 
not  merely  of  material  production  but  also  of  art,  science, 
religion,  law,  and  custom.    Continuity  of  work  thus  forms 
one  of  the  essential  conditions  and  first  postulates  of  hu- 
man existence,  and  there  is  no  reason  fo;  giving  it  special 
treatment  in  the  theory  of  the  econnmic  employment  of 
labour,  particulariy  since  it  offers  for  the  latter  no  new 
instructive  points  of  view. 

Sundry  text-books  recognise  stili  a  third  t\  pe  of  union 
of  labour,   which   is   said    to    arise    "when   several   do 


•-■  jj 


-■'  ^i 


r  ^ 


I*' 


»50         UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

similar  work  concurrently,  and  by  virtue  of  union  ob- 
tain a  greater  result  than  would  be  possible  to  them  work- 
ing inaividually."  Heinrich  Rau,  who  incidenta'ly  men- 
tions this  case,*  instances  temporary  companies  of  forest 
wood-cutters,  of  raftsmen,  and  of  reapers.  In  reality  he 
here  singles  out  a  procedure  that  is  not  division  of  labour, 
although  an  increased  productivity  in  the  labour  of  the 
individual  results  from  the  simultaneous  cooperation  of 
several.  This  case  then,  like  the  one  of  the  varied  activity 
of  the  Indian  mentioned  by  List,  caimot  be  summarily 
dismissed  as  already  embraced  under  the  conception  of 
division  of  labour  and  as  ill-adapted  to  special  scientific 
treatment. 

Without  doubt  the  real  reason  for  the  formation  of  the 
concept  union  of  labour  and  for  its  long  retention  in  the 
literature  of  the  science  is  the  vague  feeling  that  there 
must  be  an  economic  principle  forming  the  counterpart  rf 
division  of  labour.  Cooperation  it  cannot  be,  for  that  is 
identical  with  certain  'irms  of  division  of  labour,^ <^  its 
"  other  side."    What  then  is  this  principle? 

All  division  of  labour  is  an  accommodation  of  work  to 
limited  human  capacity.    It  takes  place  when  a  qualitative 

*Grundsatce  der  I'olksxvxrthschaftslehrc,  I.  §  ii6  (a).  Rau  appeals  to 
Gioja,  who  had  studied  the  matter  somewhat  in  his  Nuovo  prospeUo 
ddle  scienze  economiche,  I,  87  ff.  Moreover  Hermann,  Staatstv.  Untcr- 
suchungcit,  new  edition,  p.  217,  had  also  given  it  some  attention.  He 
designates  it  as  "  the  simplest  combination  of  labour."  Similarly  by 
the  French  who  distinguish  co-operation  simple  and  co-operation  cottpkxe, 
and  make  the  latter  identical  with  division  of  labour.  Comp.  Cauwes, 
Cours  d'Econ.  pal,  I,  S  225. 

"  For  example,  subdivision  ef  labour  and  division  of  production,  but 
not  division  of  trade.  If  various  specialists  take  the  place  of  a  general 
practitioner  no  cooperation  takes  place  amongst  them  either  in  com- 
mercial dealings  or  in  any  other  way  similar  to  that  amongst  the 
different  workers  in  a  factory. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON.         2^1 


\^■iti 


jil;  vvould  in  part  lie  fal- 

ndciiii';  of  strength  would 

.  >r,l(i  not,  perhaps,  form  the 

;uioi!      The  labourer,  even 

lil  'e  driven  to  help  himself 

,  tiic  first  a  second  activity  to 

•  r'-.  y  suitably  call  this  union 


disproportion  exists  between  the  work  to  be  done  and  the 
individual's  capability." 

But  there  may  aiso  be  a  quantitative  disproportion  be- 
tween the  two  factors  in  two  ways:  (i)  the  quantity  of 
work  to  be  done  may  be  less  than  the  available  labour- 
power,  and  it  may  jb-.  (2)  be  more  than  equal  to  the 
strength  of  a  sinji,   i-idividual. 

In  the  arst  cp      tl  v  ;)''  sic:  1  to    e  would  not  be  com- 
pletely utilized  \i  1  iu  '.-oo-'.er      .1,1.    d  himself  to  this  one 
line  of  work.     H-  c  <,>: 
low,  and  ai^    ni.    ju<.  /  n-  >ir.r. 
result.    Th'^'    •,    rl<  <'  -  nu 
basis  for  a  I'l— lUj, 
in  his  own  pri>  ate  ii 
by  combining  or  t  re- 
fill out  his  leisure  lin 
or  combination  of  labour }- 

In  the  second  case  the  individual  by  himself  cannot  pos- 
sibly perform  the  task,  or  can  do  so  only  with  a  dispropor- 
tionate expenditure  of  time  and  energy.  A  single  work- 
man, for  instance,  might,  if  necessity  demanded,  succeed  in 
cutting  the  trunk  of  a  large  tree  into  boards  with  a  hand- 
saw-; but  with  what  t.  uble  and  needless  expenditure  of 
time!  If  two  rien  and  a  whip-saw  are  called  into  service, 
however,  the  work  goes  forward  not  only  absolutely  but 
relatively  better.  Th^  picture  of  the  s  w-pit  then  arises, 
which  at  times  can  still  be  seen  in  rural  i  nber-yards.  The 
union  of  the  workers  organizes  the  lauour  of  each  indi- 
vidual more  productively.  If  we  are  to  avoid  the  most 
lamentable  confusions  we  must  no  longer  designate  this 
procedure  union  of  labour,"  but  at  most  union  of  labour- 

"Comp.  following  chapter. 

"  Arbeiisvereinigun^. 

"To  distinguish  from  the  first  case  we  would  then  have  to  saj 


W  ' 


15  ll 
11  If 


25a         UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

ers.  More  accurate  does  it  seem,  especially  in  view  of  the 
varieties  of  this  process  to  be  mentioned  later,  to  employ 
the  expression  labour  in  common}*  In  this  phrase  the 
personal  element,  which  here  comes  into  prominence,  is 
more  clearly  expressed. 

Union  of  labour  is  then  tlie  union  of  different  classes  of 
work  in  one  person;  labour  in  common  is  the  concurrent  em- 
ployment of  several  zcorkers  in  the  accomplishment  of  one  task. 
In  union  of  labour  the  same  producer  turns  out  various 
products  or  combines  production  with  trading  or  with 
personal  service;  in  labour  in  common  various  labourers 
produce  in  common  the  like  product.  In  the  one  case  the 
uniting  point  is  in  the  subject  of  the  work,  the  labourer,  in 
the  other  the  community  lies  in  the  object  of  the  labour. 

The  two  processes  are  independent  of  each  other  and  of 
division  ot  labour.  They,  of  course,  play  their  chief 
role  during  primitive  stages  of  development  and  in  the 
lower  strata  of  economically  organized  society.  Two 
great  stages  in  the  economic  life  of  nations  might  indeed 
be  (liitinguished:  a  lower  one.  in  which  the  principle  of 
union  of  labour  and  labour  in  common  comes  preeminently 
into  play;  and  a  higher  one.  with  the  principle  of  division 
of  labotir  predominant.  In  the  same  way  two  sphe-es  ot 
social  existence  may  be  distinguished  in  contemporary 
economic  life:  one  with  pronounced  division  of  labour,  the 
other  with  union  of  labour  and  labour  in  common. 


In  a  separate  consideration  of  each  of  these  two  phe- 
nomena \vc  had  better  begin  with  union  of  hihoiir.  It  appears 
early  in  the  history  of  peoples.  It  is  universally  met  with 
directly  the  stage  of  individual  search  for  food  is  passed. 

"subjective"  (personal)  uninn  of  labour;  while  the  first  case  would  be 
desiKnatcfl  as    ■  (.l.iective  "   (material)   uiiioti  of  labour. 
'♦  Arbciltgctncinichaft. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON.         253 

and  when  economic  motives,  be  they  even  of  the  crudest 
kind,  become  discernible  in  men's  transactions.  For  at 
that  point  we  everywhere  notice  the  sharp  separation  of 
two  distinct  spheres  of  production,  each  of  which  again 
contains  many  subdepartments.  One  embraces  men's 
work,  the  other  women's  work."  Essentially  the  same 
arrangement,  with  unimportant  variations  in  detail,  is 
found  among  all  more  advanced  primitive  peoples,  and  we 
cannot  deny  that  there  is  a  certain  instinctive  system  about 
it.  Of  a  division  of  labour  between  man  and  wife  one  can- 
not seriously  speak,  for  from  all  we  know  none  of  the  occu- 
pations assigned  to  either  of  the  two  sexes  has  ever  been 
carried  on  by  the  other. 

It  must  be  assumed  that  this  condition  of  things  de- 
veloped quite  naturally.  In  at.,  case  the  statement  is  false 
that  the  stronger  man  "  imposed  "  ui)on  the  woman  the 
tasks  falling  to  him.  Much  rather  is  it  correct  to  say  that 
each  sex  1  s  of  its  own  impulse — it  might  perhaps  be  said 
under  the  stress  of  environment — created  1  the  course  of 
time  its  own  department  of  production,  developed  the 
technical  details  connected  with  it,  collected  the  experi- 
ences, and  transmitted  them  to  the  following  generation  of 
the  same  sex.  Thus  these  two  combinations  of  tasks, 
through  contiinicd  hereditary  transmission  within  the 
same  sex,  Iiave  almost  been  evoived  into  sexual  character- 
istics or  functions.  The  hereditary  ta.  k  of  the  woman,  in 
which  the  man  was  not  instructed,  formed  a  species  of 
natural  equipment  that  made  her  valued  by  the  man  and 
gave  her  a  i)rice.  Though  it  is  true  that  from  this 
grew  the  conception  of  the  wife  as  propyl  ty  of  the  husband, 
it  is  none  the  less  true  that  the  important  part  played  by 
the  wife  in  production  has  been  not  the  least  important 


A  (k'tailcd  (liscii^iion  of  tlu-so,  pp.  .V»  ff.,  55. 


254         UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

factor  in  the  gradual  elevation  of  the  rude  primaeval  union 
of  the  sexes  to  a  community  of  life  in  which  the  woman 
has  finally  raised  herself  to  equality  of  rights  with  the  hus- 
band. 

The  economic  importance  of  the  union  of  various  tasks 
in  the  hands  of  each  sex  is  essentially  of  an  educational  and 
disciplinary  nature.  It  compelled  as  it  were  of  itself,  at 
least  on  the  part  of  the  wife,  attention  to  the  elements  of 
time  at  seed-time  and  at  harvest,  and  finally  to  a  di- 
vision of  time,  very  crude  though  it  was,  for  the  single  day. 
It  is  a  matter  of  particular  moment  in  this  connection  that 
the  preparaiion  of  grain  by  means  of  the  primitive  rubbing- 
stone,  which  is  the  method  employed  by  most  primitive 
peoples  down  to  :lie  present  day,  makes  exceedingly  heavy 
demands  upon  the  operator's  time,  so  that  the  mere  main- 
tenance of  three  or  four  persons  required  the  labuur  of  one 
woman.'"  1 1  -  ih  one  of  the  most  important  supports  of 
polygamy  among  these  peoi)lcs,  and  renders  it  tolerable 
for  the  wife.  I''or  a  new  spouse  brought  home  Ijy  the  hus- 
band always  appears  to  the  other  wives  as  a  helper  to 
lighten  their  lot.  It  is  thus  comprehen.sible  that  the  posses- 
.'ion  of  numerous  wives  nnist  serve  as  an  indication  of 
wealth.  We  may  even  assert  that  the  careful  employment 
of  time,  with  which  systematic  economic  action  first  be- 
gins, finds  its  starting-point  in  the  union  of  labour  on  the 
part  of  the  women. 

Moreover,  when  in  the  course  of  subsctiuent  develop- 
ment considerable  shiftings  took  place  in  the  boundaries 
(if  the  spiieres  of  work  of  both  sexes,  forcing  the  wife  ever 
more  towards  the  side  of  supervising  consumption  within 
the  household  and  placing  almost  all  the  production  in 
the   hands  of  the  husband,   the  principle   of  division  of 

"Comp   Dr   \V.  Junkir's  Travels  in  Africa,  II,  pp.  170,  171,  and  my 
Arbeit  u.  Hhylhmm.  pp.  jS,  (».  6l. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


255 


labour  made  itself  felt  almost  solely  in  man's  sphere  of 
work,  while  to  the  wife's  household  management  remained 
the  most  varied  duties  of  preparing,  disposing,  cleaning, 
and  repairing.  The  course  of  these  latter  really  deter- 
mines the  division  of  time  in  our  daily  life. 

To  be  sure,  union  of  labour  has  not  on  that  account  dis- 
appeared completely  from  the  economic  world.  Agricul- 
ture still  embraces  occupations  varying  greatly  from  one 
another;  everywhere  in  civilized  lands  its  development  has 
been  intimately  connected  with  cattle-raising,  while  sub- 
sidiary industries  are  often  included  within  its  sphere. 
It  is  indeed  one  of  the  most  important  tasks  of  the  farm- 
director  so  to  arrange  matters  that  the  working  powers  of 
man  and  beast  can  he  turned  to  full  account  in  as  many 
ways  and  in  as  regular  a  manner  as  possible.  In  the  change 
of  activity  following  the  seasons  of  the  year  there  is,  even 
in  large  agricultural  undertakings,  but  little  room  for  sub- 
division of  work  and  specialization;  different  kinds  of  oc- 
cupations must  always  be  united  in  one  person,  and  among 
the  women  workers  a  clear  division  into  farm  hands  and 
household  servants  is  not  feasible. 

Similar  considerations  hold  for  forestry,  in  which  keen 
practical  men  condemn  the  system  still  common  in  many 
places  of  having  specialized  labour  for  each  season.'^  and 
demand  the  employment  throughout  the  whole  year  of  a 
permanent  staff  of  all-round  workmen.  Such  a  require- 
ment can  be  met  only  on  the  basis  of  union  of  labour. 

In  industry  handicraft  has  frotn  time  itnmemorial  been 
founded  on  union  of  labour.  It  was  not  the  highest  pro- 
ductivity that  determined  the  mutual  delimitation  of  the 
departments  of  pro<luction.  but  regard  for  the  daily  bread 
which  each  master  was  to  find  in  his  craft.    The  number- 

"  Comp.  Fr.  Jentsch,  Die  Arbeiten'erhiilt.  in  d.  Forstwirth.  d.  Staats 
(Berlin.  i88j). 


256         UNION  OF  L/IBOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

less  disputes  between  different  guilds  as  to  the  limits  of 
their  trade  which  fill  the  pages  of  industrial  history  during 
the  last  few  centuries  continually  raised  discussions  on  the 
practicableness  of  this  or  that  combination.     In  the  age 
of  industrial  freedom  handicraft  has  also  advanced  in  the 
large  cities  in  the  direction  of  specialization;  in  the  smaller 
towns  the  old  combinations  have  been  retained,  and  m 
countrv  parts  new  ones  are  still  arising  each  year.  The  ma- 
son is  here  often  plasterer,  painter,  and  paper-hanger  as 
well,  while  in  winter  he  serves  for  wage  as  butcher;   the 
smith  is  at  the  same  time  locksmith  and  chief  engineer  of 
the  threshmg-machinc;  paper-hanging  is  cared  for  now  by 
the  saddler,  now  by  the  painter,  now  by  the  bookbinder. 
In  the  towns  the  greatest  variety  of  combinations  are 
made  by  the  new  occupations.    Gas-fitting  and  plumbhig 
are  undertaken  now  by  the  locksmith,  now  by  the  tinsmith, 
and  electric  services  are  installed  in  houses  by  craftsmen  of 
most  diverse  types.     Everywhere  the  craftsman  appears 
willing  to  ad<l   to  his  workshop  a  small   counter  trade, 
especially  with  wares  of  his  own  <lepartment  of  labour  no 
longer  produced  by  hand-work,  but  often  with  various 
other  articles  as  well.    Justus  Moser  long  since  remarked 
the  sound  economic  idea  realized  in  this  union:  and  would 
willinglv  have  seen  all  petty  retailing  transferred  to  hand- 
workers and  their  wives.' ^     If  we  a.ld  t«  this  the  various 
alliances  that  handicraft  makes  with  services  of  a  personal 
character,  especially  minor  civil  offices,  and  in  the  country 
as  a  regular  thing  with  agriculture,  we  are  rea<li1y  con- 
vinced that  the  union  of  labour  still  commands  a  very  ex- 
tended field.'"     Men  of  "  modern  mind  "  may  deplore  the 

"  Patrwitsche  I'hintastcn.  Vo!,   II.  No.  XXXVIl. 

'"(  ,.j.t(.ii>  m.-itirial  on  the  c.niilMiKHions  of  tra.les  and  si-oundary 
ocnuMiions  of  haiuKsorkcr^  .»  ofTcritl  in  I  nlcrsurhungni  ubcr  d.  La^e 
d.  Ua,idiitrhs  i«  IhuUckUnd.  edited  by  r.iy;elf.  in  Schrif'.en  0.  Verc.ns 


fe«S'< 


WF!PPiWPP 


iP 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON.         2$^ 

great  number  of  such  "  backward  trades  " ;  pessimists  may 
see  in  them  a  sign  of  the  "  distress  in  handicraft  " ;  fanatics 
on  production  may  regret  that  under  such  ramditions  the 
highest  possible  measure  of  productivity  is  not  reaHzed  in 
every  branch  of  industry.  But  an  unprejudiced  judgment, 
based  upon  an  investigation  of  the  facts,  will  rind  that  in 
the  union  of  labour  the  middle  class  of  small  independent 
workmen  has  its  firmest  footing;  it  will  find  too  that  in 
the  majority  of  cases  the  due  observance  of  sound  business 
principles  has  not  been  wanting.  For  as  a  rule  it  is  really 
a  question  of  making  use  of  time  that  is  not  taken  up  by 
the  chief  occupation,  and  of  giving  employment  to  capabil- 
ities that  would  otherwise  lie  dormant. 

Union  of  labour  is  relatively  still  more  common  in  house 
industrx  where  the  women  employed  at  the  same  time  at- 
tend to  their  doincstic  duties,  and  where  the  men  often 
follow  agriculture  or  some  other  business  as  primary  occu- 
pation. Indeed  the  origin  of  many  commission  industries 
rests  finally  upon  the  consideration  that  persons  not  fully 
occupied  could  profitably  combine  them  with  their  other 
business. 

Trading  primarily  is  always  union  of  labour,  since  in  the 
earlier  stages  of  its  development  it  regularly  includes 
transportation.  Caravan  trade  is  an  example.  In  modern 
commercial  life  division  of  labour  li.is  strongly  asserted  it- 
self in  wholesale  trade,  and  also  in  tlie  retail  trade  of  large 
cities.  But  along  with  these  are  numerous  businesses, 
such  as  hardware  and  house-furnishing  shops,  which  bring 
together  the  most  varied  articles.  In  the  wholesale  ware- 
houses and  export  businesses,  in  the  sixpenny  bazaars  and 
cash  stores  this  devclojiment  has  reached  its  highest  point. 
These  ^iant  undertakings  of  course  lie  beyond  the  range 

f.  Socialp.ilitik.  Vols    LXIULXX,  especially  in  the  descriptions  of  in- 
dustries in  small  towns  and  country  districts. 


i- 


i^ii 


258         UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

of  our  Study,  since  with  them  the  work  is  generally  ar- 
ranged in  strict  accordance  with  the  principle  of  division 
of  labour.  On  the  other  hand,  the  numerous  small  retail 
businesses  carried  on  in  suburban  places,  in  small  towns, 
and  in  the  country  usually  as  the  sole  occupation  of  one 
person  lie  within  its  survey,  because  here  the  owner 
deals  in  every  possible  article  that  will  bring  in  money. 
Indeed  one  would  have  to  write  a  detailed  account  of  the 
sale  shops  to  explain  all  that  is  to  be  found  gathered  to- 
gether there.  Certain  wares  are  specially  prized  for  filling 
out  the  stock,  such  as  canes,  cigar-holders,  combs,  brushes, 
and  straw  hats;  and  it  is  often  difficult  to  learn  how  they 
have  come  into  the  company  they  keep.  Many  tradesmen 
of  such  a  class  at  the  same  time  carry  on  commission  busi- 
nesses, insurance  and  news  agencies,  sell  lottery  and 
theatre  tickets,  receive  advertisements  and  savings-bank 
deposits,  and  the  like. 

In  the  great  world  of  commerce  there  are  various  spe- 
cialized occupations  that  can  hardly  be  carried  on  with 
profit  by  themselves,  and  therefore  are  always  followed  in 
conjunction  with  another  pursuit.  What  village  could 
support  a  special  precentor,  village  clerk,  or  sexton;  what 
rural  loan  association  maintain  a  treasurer;  what  insurance 
company  pay  its  army  of  sub-agents  sufficient  for  their 
support?  Without  the  possibility  of  union  of  labour  these 
and  many  other  economic  functions  would  simply  have  to 
remain  unperformed. 

The  consideration  determining  the  combination  in  each 
case  could  only  be  gleaned  from  a  minute  statistical  and 
descriptive  investigation.  In  most  cases  the  influence 
that  decides  the  person  devoting  himself  to  different 
kinds  of  work  is  the  full  employment  of  his  time  and  the 
gaining  of  a  full  livelihood.  For  the  method  of  combina- 
tion, however,  many  other  considerations  come  into  play. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


259 


Now  it  is  to  take  advantage  of  a  clientele  already  existing, 
now  to  utilize  a  particular  talent  or  skill  possessed  by  the 
workman  for  a  further  object.  The  economic  principle 
will  in  these  cases  in  one  way  or  another  always  come  into 
play. 

The  actual  extent  of  union  of  labour  in  national  economy 
is  not  easy  to  determine.  Statistics  have  sought  to  answer 
the  need  by  creating  the  rather  unsatisfactory  category  of 
the  auxiliary  occupations;  but  it  is  easy  to  see  that  this 
designation  does  not  exhaust  the  total  number  of  cases 
that  come  here  into  question;  it  gives  at  most  only  those 
in  which  the  auxiliary  occupation  ranks  in  some  degree  as 
an  independent  vocation.  A  union  of  occupations  might  be 
spoken  of  in  this  case.-"  Yet  some  conception  of  the  im- 
mense economic  importance  of  the  union  of  labour  may  be 
gained  when  we  learn  from  the  results  of  the  last  German 
industrial  census  that  on  June  14,  1895,  there  were  almost 
five  million  persons  in  the  German  Empire  who  had  some 
secondary  occupation,  and  that  agriculture  alone  was  an 
auxiliary  pursuit  for  3,648,237.  Of  3.999,023  proprietors 
and  managers  in  some  branch  of  agriculture,  industry,  or 
trade,  36.9  per  cent.  (1,475.023)  had  an  auxiliary  occupa- 
tion, while  2,928,530  carried  on  these  branches  as  auxiliary 
work. 

The  following  table  gives  a  survey  of  the  whole  field  of 
industrial  activity  covered  by  that  census.  In  it  those  car- 
rying on  independent  and  dependent  work  are  grouped 
together. 

Ffdm  this  table  we  find  that  out  of  every  100  persons 
pursuing  their  chief  occupation  in  one  of  the  classes  indi- 


On  the  occurrence  of  combined  occupation";  in  town  life  in  the 
Middle  Apes  there  are  some  details  in  my  Bcfiilkerung  von  Frankfurt, 
I.  pp.  Jj2ff.,  41;  ff. 


a6o        UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


DIVISIONS  OF  THE  INDUSTRIAL  POPULATION  OF  THE  GERMAN  EMPIRE 
ACCORDING  TO  CHIEF  AND  AUXILIMIY  OCCUPATIONS  ON  14TH 
OF  JUNE,  1895. 


CUuof 
Occupation. 


No.  of  Per- 
lont  finding 
tbeir  Chief 
Occupation 
in  Clan 
indicated. 


No.  of  Pettoni  having 


a 
Secondary 
Occupa- 
tion. 


A.  Agriculture, 
forestry,  stock- 
raising,  fishing. 

B.  Mining  and  in 
dustries 

C.  Trade  and  com 
meice 

D.  Domestic  ser- 
vice,hired  labour 
of  various  kinds. 

E.  Public  service, 
liberal  profes- 
sions  


8,292,692 
8,281,220 
a.338.S»i 

432.491 

i,4as.96i 


no 
Sccondaty 
Occupation, 


No.  of 

fersont 

making 

tbeir 

Occupation 

indicated 

in  Col.  t 

Secondary. 

4 


ToUl  No. 

in  the 
Variout 
Diviaiont. 


Total. 


Of  these  were  : 

Males 

Females 


20,770.875 


15,506,482 
5.264,393 


1,049.542 

1,491.865 

384.105 

31.333 
115,266 


3,072,111 


2,816,655 
255.456 


7.243.150 
6,789.355 
1,954,406 

401,158 

1,310,695 


17,698,764 


12,689,827 
5.008,937 


3,648,237 
619,386 

569.877 

16.765 

95.436 
4,949,701 


11,940,929 
8,908,606 
a,908,388 

449.256 

1.521,397 


25,720,576 


3.203.375 
1.746,326 


18,709,857 
7,010,719 


cated,  whether  as  proprietor  or  workman  in  any  capacity, 
a  second  or  third  (auxiliary)  occupation  was  added— 

In  agriculture,  forestry,  stock-raising,  fishing,  by 12.6  persons 

In  mining  and  industry  by |°® 

In  trade  and  co.nmcrce  by ,'■".' 'C       Z. 

In  domestic  service  and  hired  labour  of  various  kinds  by.     72         ^ 

In  public  service  and  liberal  professions  by 8.1 

Of  the  total  number  of  persons  following  an  occupation 
(either  chief  or  auxiliary)  in  one  of  the  said  classes,  a 
secondary  pursuit  from  the  same  class  was  chosen— 

In  agriculture,  forestry,  stock-raising,  fishing,  by 30.6% 

In  mining  atrl  industry  by ig't'fc 

In  trade  and      )mmerre  by ,' ■" a"u •. -% 

In  domestic    >  -vke  and  hired  labour  of  -.anous  kinds  by 3-/^ 

In  public  service  and  liberal  professions  by °-'7° 


MlilHH 


lanfti.V..4H 


"TTV'-iEiaB'EW. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON.         a6i 

Even  from  the  returns  of  occupations,  which  unfortu- 
nately are  not  sufificiently  detailed  for  this  purpose,  it  is 
clear  that  many  occupations  are  carried  on  chiefly  in  con- 
junction with  other  pursuits.  For  exam^ile,  in  the  table 
next  presented  the  total  number  of  persons  following  the 
vocation  are  contrasted,  by  percentages,  with  those  fol- 
lowing it  either  as  principal  or  subsidiary,  along  with  an- 
other occupation.^^ 

Stock-raising   83.4% 

Inland  fishing 69.370 

Turf  cutting  and  preparing 93-9% 

Stone  cutting  and  carving 57-2% 

Marble,  stone,  and  slate  quarrying  and  the  manufacture  of  rough 

wares  from  these  materials 78.6% 

Manufacture  of  fine  stone  wares 50-2% 

Brick  and  clay-pipe  making 86.9% 

Butchering    S8.i% 

Insurance 68.7% 

Personal  transport  and  post 53-2% 

Freight  delivery   75-7% 

Pottery 57-5% 

Manufacture  of  earthenware  and  glass  toys 56.0% 

Nail-manufacture    67  o7o 

Blacksmithing   7f>.^% 

Wagon-making  74-8% 

Flaying 85.9^0 

Charcoal-burning   81.2% 

Flour-milling  9'-6% 

Baking  61.6% 

Turning  52.7% 

Advertisement  and  labour-agency  work 54-4% 

Inn-keeping  and  refreshments 64.4% 

These  figures  naturally  are  far  from  giving  a  true  picture 
of  the  results  of  combined  and  divided  labour  in  the  oc- 
cupation classes  indicated.  It  is  at  once  apparent  that  in  a 
statistical  return  on  extractive  production  a  country  shoe- 
maker who  devotes  a  quarter  of  his  time  to  land-cultivation 

"  Columns  6  and  8  of  Reichistatiitxk,  Tab.  I. 


262 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


has  necessarily  the  other  three-quarters  of  his  time  left 
out  of  account.  This,  however,  is  not  the  point;  it  is 
rather  the  question  of  the  number  of  human  beings  to 
whom  a  combination  of  occupations  assures  more  abun- 
dant sustenance  and  also  in  most  cases  a  more  satisfying 
existence,  both  as  regards  health  and  morals,  than  a  one- 
sided employment  in  full  agreement  with  the  principle  of 
division  of  labour.  In  the  German  Empire  this  num- 
ber is  large  beyond  expectation,  amounting  almost  to  one- 
third  of  all  persons  engaged  in  earning  their  living. 


The  principle  of  union  of  labour,  despite  the  wealth  of 
forms  in  which  it  appears,  is  quite  simple:  how  shall  surplus 
strength  be  productively  employed?  The  principle  of 
labour  in  common  cannot  be  reduced  to  such  a  smooth  for- 
mula. In  general,  its  aim  is  so  to  supplement  the  insuffi- 
cient strength  of  the  individual  that  the  task  presented  can 
be  accomplished.  But  the  individual  workman's  insuffi- 
ciency of  strength  may  again  have  different  causes.  It 
may  be  based  on  a  definite  mental  disposition  that  pre- 
vents the  workman  labouring  continuously  by  himself;  it 
may  rest  on  lack  of  bodily  strength;  or,  finally,  it  may  re- 
sult from  technical  conditions  rendering  it  impossible 
for  one  piece  of  work  to  be  performed  unless  accompanied 
by  a  second  of  a  different  character.  Each  of  these  three 
cases  produces  a  distinct  kind  of  labour  in  common.  The 
first  may  he  called  companionship  or  fraternal  labour,  the 
second,  labour  aggregation,  and  the  third,  joint  labour.  We 
will  consider  them  in  order. 

I.  Companionship  or  fraternal  labour^-  occurs  when  sev- 
eral workers  come  together  and  labour  without  the  indi- 
vidual 1  ecoming  in  the  progress  of  his  task  in  any  way 

"  Gesi     u-hiflsiirli,:!  nr  j,'.mt/(1I,'('  .-Irbeil. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


263 


dependent  upon  the  others.  Each  thus  labours  for  himself 
independently  and  adopts  any  tempo  he  pleases.  The  sole 
aim  in  union  is  to  have  the  company  of  fellow-workmen,  to 
be  able  to  talk,  joke  and  sing  with  them,  and  to  avoid  soli- 
tary work  alone  with  one's  thoughts. 

The  student  whose  work  thrives  best  in  undisturbed  soli- 
tude will  on  hearing  this  probably  shrug  his  sympathetic 
shoulders  in  pitying  contempt,  and  find  the  subject  hardly 
worth  serious  consideration.  But  anyone  who  has  ever 
observed  a  group  of  village  women  braking  flax,  or  doing 
their  washing  at  the  brookside,  or  watched  a  troop  of 
Saxon  field-workers  hoeing  turnips,  or  a  line  of  reapers  at 
work,  or  listened  to  the  singing  of  a  group  of  house-paint- 
ers, or  of  women  at  work  in  an  Italian  vineyard,  will  be  of 
a  different  opinion.  The  lower  the  stage  of  a  man's  cul- 
ture the  more  difficult  is  it  for  him  to  stick  to  continuous 
and  regular  labour,  if  he  is  to  be  left  by  himself. 

But  the  best  proof  of  the  importance  of  fraternal  labour 
lies  in  its  having  found  some  sort  of  organization  in  all 
parts  of  the  earth.  We  may  call  to  mind  the  public  work- 
ing-places and  common-houses  of  the  savages,^^  the  com- 
mon workrooms  of  the  house-workers  in  Russia,  the  spin- 
ning-rooms of  our  peasant  girls  which  the  bureaucracy  of 
the  eighteenth  century  so  fatuously  opposed,  but  which 
live  on  in  many  villages  to  the  present  day  in  the  evening 
gatherings  for  work  in  common.     Custom  everywhere 

"K.  V.  d.  Steinen,  Unter  d.  Naturvdlk.  Brasil.  p.  374.  Erman  in 
Ztschr.  f.  Ethnol.,  II,  p.  ,v8  (on  the  Coljusches  in  Sitka).  Jacobsen. 
Reise  in  d.  InsclwcU  d.  Banda-Meeres.  p.  213.  Finsch.  Samoafahrten.  p.  357. 
Burton,  as  above,  pp.  54.  2<i7,  461.  Nachtigal.  Sahara  u.  Sudan.  II. 
p.  624;  III.  pp.  146,  244.  Count  Schweinitz,  Durch  Ostafrika  im  Krieg 
u.  Frieden,  p.  171.  Stanley.  Through  the  Dark  Continent,  II.  p.  82,  and 
How  I  found  Livingstone,  pp.  546  flf.  Semon,  In  the  Australian  Bush, 
p.  324.  Comp.  also  Arbal  u.  Rhythmus,  pp.  38,  39.  71 ;  and  above, 
P   37. 


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(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


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a64        UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


I 

II 


;i 


joins  to  these  gatherings  dancing,  feasting  or  other 
practice  tending  to  make  the  work  more  agreeable.  A 
few  instances  will  serve  to  show  the  wide  extent  of  such 
institutions. 

In  the  Fiji  Islands  "  several  women  always  unite  in  the 
preparation  of  tapa;  frequently  all  the  women  of  the  place 
sit  together,"  and  in  net-fishing  "  women  always  work  to- 
gether in  small  groups;  the  work  is  at  the  same  time  a 
recreation,  and  there  is  often  a  merry  time  in  the  cooling 
bath."  '*  Among  many  negro  tribes  in  Africa  women  can 
be  seen  at  public  work-places  pounding  or  grinding  corn 
in  common.  A  more  circumstantial  report  is  given  by  a 
missionary  as  to  the  North  American  Indians:  *"  "  The  till- 
ing of  the  ground,  getting  of  the  fire-wood,  and  pounding 
of  com  in  mortars  is  frequently  done  by  female  parties, 
much  in  the  manner  of  .  .  .  husking,  quilting,  and  other 
frolics.  .  .  .  The  labour  is  thus  quickly  and  easily  per- 
formed; when  it  is  over,  and  sometimes  in  intervals,  they 
sit  down  together  to  enjoy  themselves  by  feasting  on  some 
good  victuals  prepared  for  them  by  the  person  or  family 
for  whom  they  work,  and  which  the  man  has  taken  care 
to  provide  beforehand  from  the  woods;  for  this  is  consid- 
ered a  principal  part  of  the  business,  as  there  are  generally 
more  or  I'^^s  of  the  females  assembled  who  have  not,  per- 
haps, for  a  long  time  tasted  a  morsel  of  meat,  being  either 
widows  or  orphans,  or  otherwise  in  straitened  circum- 
stances. Even  the  chat  which  passes  during  their  joint 
IaI>our  is  highly  diverting  to  them,  and  .so  they  seek  to  be 
employed  in  this  way  as  long  as  they  can  l)y  going  round 
to  all  the  villagers  who  have  ground  to  till." 

The  same  linking  of  work  and  pleasure  is  found  in  the 

"A.  Biisslcr,  Sudste-Ptldcr.  pp    224-6 

**  HeckfWflder,  as  above,  p.  156.    Similar  report  from  South  Amer- 
ica in  Elu<nreich,  Beitriigr  ~    I'Hlkcrkund.  IWasiL.  p.  .'S. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON.         265 

lie  social  houses  that  are  met  with  almost  universally 
among  primitive  peoples.  Divided  regularly  according  to 
the  sexes,  they  are  most  frequently  built  for  unmarried 
men  and  girls.  They  serve  not  merely  as  places  of  resort 
for  common  tasks,  but  often  as  sleeping  places  as  well,  and 
always  as  places  for  dancing  and  play.  There  singing  and 
joking  and  chatting  go  on ;  the  fruitless  efforts  of  the  awk- 
ward are  ridiculed  and  the  successful  work  of  the  diligent 
and  skilful  applauded. 

A  distant  parallel  to  this  institution  has  been  retained 
among  ourselves  almost  down  to  the  present  in  the  spin- 
ning-rooms of  peasant  girls.'**  These  rooms  had  in  every 
part  of  Germany  their  well-defined  though  unwritten  rules 

**  But  with  similar  conditions  these  are  met  with  everywhere.  Henry 
Savage  Landor  (In  the  ForbiddeH  Land,  an  Account  of  a  Journey  in  Tibet, 
I,  pp.  109  flF.)  found  them  even  in  the  southern  Himalayas  among 
the  Shokas,  where  girls  and  young  men  come  together  at  night  in 
particular  meeting-places  (Rambangs),  for  the  sake  of  better  acquaint- 
ance, prior  to  entering  into  matrimony.  "  Each  village  possesses  one 
or  more  institutions  of  this  kind,  and  they  are  indiscriminately  patron- 
ized by  all  well-to-do  people,  who  recognise  the  institution  as  a  sound 
basis  nn  which  marriage  can  be  arranged.  The  Rambang  houses  are 
either  in  the  village  itself,  or  half-way  between  one  village  and  the 
next,  the  young  women  of  one  village  thus  entering  into  amicable 
relations  with  the  young  men  of  the  other  and  vice  versa.  I  visited 
many  of  these  in  company  with  Shokas,  and  found  them  very  inter- 
esting. Round  a  big  fire  in  the  centre  of  the  room  men  and  women 
sat  in  couples,  spinning  wool  and  chattinp  merrily,  for  everything  ap- 
peared decorous  and  cheerful.  With  the  small  hours  of  the  morning, 
they  seemed  to  become  more  sentimental,  and  began  singing  songs 
without  instrumental  accompaniment,  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  voices 
sounding  weird  and  haunting  to  a  degree.  .  .  Smoking  was  general, 
each  couple  sharing  the  same  pipe.  .  .  .  Signs  of  sleepiness  became 
evident  as  morning  came,  and  soon  tliey  all  retired  in  couples,  and 
went  to  sleep  in  their  clothes  on  a  soft  layer  of  straw  and  grass.  .  .  . 
At  these  gatherings  every  Shoka  girl  regularly  meets  with  young  men: 
and  while  she  entertains  the  idea  of  selecting  among  them  a  suitable 
partner  for  life,  she  also  does  a  considerable  quantity  of  work  with  her 
spinning-wheel." 


1    if 


266         UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

and  laws.    "  In  Brunswick  the  spinning-rooms  began  with 

the  approach  of  winter,  when  the  field-work  was  ended.    In 

many  villages  this  occurred  at  Martinmas.    They  lasted 

then  till  Lent,  or  at  latest  till  Palm  Sunday,  when  other 

work  had  to  be  done.    The  evening  gatherings  were  held 

in  rotation  at  the  houses  of  the  different  members  of  the 

particular  weaving-circle.  The  membership  of  such  a  circle 

was  made  up  of  four,  or  at  most  of  eight  girls,  who  were 

fi  lends  or  relatives  of  each  other.    The  majority  consisted 

of  servants,  though  the  daughters  of  peasants  also  joined 

in.    The  old  folks  spun  by  themselves.    In  the  early  part 

of  the  evening  the  girls  were  alone;  for  not  till  later  on, 

about  eight  o'clock,  did  the  male  visitors,  who  by  that  time 

had  finished  their  work,  put  in  an  appearance  and  take 

part  in  the  company,  at  first  with  reserve,  and  then  more 

and  more  boldly.     The  institution   has  as  its  basis  a 

laudable  diHgence  on  the  part  of  the  girls."  "    Generally 

there  was  a  fixed  amount  of  work  for  the  week  reckoned  in 

yarn;  anyone  not  doing  it  received  a  nickname.    At  times 

a  spinning  contest  was  arranged,  while  a  feeling  of  lively 

emulation  always  prevailed.^*    Indeed  a  species  of  labour 

police  was  maintained  over  the  individual  members.     In 

the  district  of  Nassau  a  moustache  was  painted  with  a  piece 

of  charcoal  on  the  spinne.  who  fell  asleep;  if  she  let  the 

thread  break  and  slip  from  her  a  lad  might  take  her  distaff, 

which  she  had  to  redeem  with  a  kiss.^^ 

"R.  Andrec,  Braunsch-veig.  I'olkskunde.  pp.  168  ff,  Comp.  K.  Frei- 
herr  v.  LeoprcchtiriK,  Aus  d.  Lcchraiii.  pp.  201-2;  Ztschr.  d.  Ver.  f. 
Volkskundf.  III.  pp.  2qi.  202.  VIII,  p.  366;  and  in  detail  Biickel.  I'olks- 
Ixedcr  aus  Oherhcsscn.  pp.  cxxiii  flf. 

"  IntiTcstinK  nnti  s  on  competitive  Ramcs  in  spinninj?  in  Ztschr  d. 
Ver.  f.  Volksk.,  VIII.  pp.  .'15,  216.     Comp.  Arbeit  u.  /?A.v//imi<,t.  pp.  91  flf. 

"  .\monR  the  Wends  in  Lusatia  on  the  l.Tt  .'pinning  nitjht  before 
Christmas  the  slow  and  lazy  ones  are  brouelit  to  trial:  Haupt  and 
Srhm.Tler,  I'olkslicdrr  d.  Wnidcii  in  d.  Oher-  u.  Xicdcr-I.nusit:.  II.  p.  220. 
Similar    instances   of   l.ibour   supervision   by    coniraiKs   are   found    in 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON.         267 

The  spinning-room  has  fallen  a  sacrifice  to  the  technical 
revolutions  of  modem  times;  but  all  through  the  country 
during  long  winter  evenings  the  young  girls  still  congre- 
gate with  their  work  in  the  house  of  a  friend.  This  is  also 
the  case  with  several  house  industries  carried  on  in  the  coun- 
try, for  instance,  with  lace-making  in  the  Erz  mountains, 
where  this  kind  of  gathering  of  working  girls  is  still  re- 
ferred to  as  "  go  spinning."  ^°  This  practice  is  full^  devel- 
oped in  the  system  of  house  industry  in  Russia.'^  Here 
male  and  female  Kustaris  frequently  work  together  outside 
their  homes.  Large  companies,  often  composed  wholly  of 
house-workers  of  the  one  village  engaged  in  a  similar 
trade,  gather  together  in  a  particuL.  workroom,  which  is 
either  a  large  room  rented  in  a  peasant's  house  or  a  shop 
erected  for  the  purpose.  Such  a  common  workroom  is  still 
most  frequently  termed  " spinning-room" {Szvetjolka),  and 
often  "  factory."  It  is  to  be  found,  for  instance,  in  do- 
mestic cotton-weaving,  cloth-making,  silk-spooling,  and 
the  making  of  shoes  and  toys.  In  women's  work  only 
young  girls,  as  a  rule,  attend,  while  the  married  women 
work  at  home. 

"  According  to  the  statements  of  the  oldest  people,  cot- 
ton-weaving was  at  first  carried  on  exclusively  in  the  swet- 
jolka,  because  the  technical  handling  of  the  loom  could  be 
learned  more  quickly  and  easily  under  the  constant  super- 
vision of  one  skilled  in  weaving.  The  living-room  of  the 
house  served  at  first  as  swetjolka,  but  later  on  a  swetjolka 
separate  from  the  house  was  built.  To-day  the  young  peo- 
ple and  the  diligent  weavers  still  prefer  to  work  in  the 

other  classes  of  peasant  working  groups.  Conip.  Hormann,  D.  TiroUr 
Baucrnjahr  (Innsbruck,  iSqq).  pp.  50.  5-2,  66,  70,  71,  75,  I2g. 

"Arbeit  u.  Rhylhmus.  pp.  99,  100. 

"  Details  in  Stellmachcr,  Ilin  Beitrag  a.  Darstelluite  d.  Hausindustrit 
in  Russhtid.  pp.  106  ff.  M.  GorbunoflF.  C'bcr  russischr  Spitscnindustrit 
(Vienna,  1886).  pp.  J,^  ff. 


^1 


268         UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

swetjolka  rather  than  at  home;  the  former  because  it  is 
more  sociable,  the  others  because  they  can  work  more 
regularly  and  to  greater  advantage.  At  home  the  weaver 
is  often  called  away  to  domestic  affairs;  the  Uving- 
room  there  is  not  so  spacious  and  bright,  the  air  not  so 
pure,  since  calves  and  lambs  are  not  infrequently  co- 
dwellers  with  the  folks;  in  the  swetjolka,  also,  the  cotton, 
which  at  home  is  very  liable  to  become  moist  and  mouldy, 
can  be  better  preserved." 

Thus  fraternal  labour  accords  very  well  with  the  eco- 
nomic principle,  even  though  it  originates  primarily  in  the 
social  instinct.  In  the  company  of  others  people  work  with 
greater  persistence  than  they  would  alone,  and  in  general 
because  of  the  rivalry,  also  better.  Work  becomes  pleas- 
ure, and  the  final  result  is  an  advance  in  production. 

2.  By  labour  aggregation^^  we  mean  the  engaging  of 
several  workmen  of  similar  capacity  in  the  performance  of 
a  united  task,  such  as  loading  a  heavy  burden,  shifting  a 
beam,  mowing  a  meadow,  beating  for  the  hunt.  In  order 
to  make  the  employment  of  a  plurality  of  workers  profit- 
able, the  work  to  be  done  need  not  be  of  itself  too  heavy 
for  the  strength  of  one  person;  it  is  only  necessary  that  it 
cannot  be  done  by  such  an  one  in  a  reasonable  time.  La- 
bour aggregation  is  of  special  importance  for  seasonal 
work  or  for  work  that  is  dependent  upon  the  weather. 
Social  conditions  can  also  play  a  part  in  expediting  certain 
tasks. 

These  circumstances  have  early  led  to  a  species  of  social 
organization  of  aggregated  labour,  founded  on  the  duty 
recognised  the  world  over  of  mutual  assistance  among 
neighbours.  We  may  use  the  expression  current  among 
the  south  Slavs  and  call  it  bidden  labour.^'  Whenever  any- 

**  Arbeitskiiufutig. 
•*  Bttlarbeit. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


269 


one  has  work  to  be  done  for  which  his  own  household  is 
not  adequate,  the  assistance  of  the  neighbours  is  sought. 
They  give  it  at  the  time  without  further  reward  than  their 
entertainment,  which  the  head  of  the  house  offers  in  the 
accustomed  way,  solely  in  the  expectation  that  when  need 
arises  they,  too,  will  be  aided  by  their  neighbours.  The 
work  is  carried  out  in  sprightly  competition  amid  jokes 
and  song,  and  at  night  there  is  often  added  a  dance  or  like 
merry-making.^^ 

This  is  a  world-wide  practice.  Traces  of  it  can  even  be 
found  among  the  South  Sea  Islanders.  In  New  Pomer- 
ania,  for  example,  it  is  the  custom  for  several  families  to 
cooperate  in  plaiting  the  fishing-baskets  and  large  fishing- 
nets.  "  Before  the  basket  receives  its  first  dip  in  the  water 
a  meal  in  common  is  g^ven,  in  which  all  who  were  engaged 
in  the  making  participate."  '* 

In  Djailolo  (Halamahera)  when  a  piece  of  land  belong- 
ing to  a  local  community  is  to  be  cleared,  ten  to  twenty 
relatives  are  called  together  to  assist  in  felling  the  trees, 
their  services  being  compensated  later  in  other  work.  So 
it  is  at  the  planting  of  paddy,  and  at  the  rice  harvest.^' 
"  Whenever  anyone  wants  to  build  a  house  he  solicits  some 
of  his  relative?  to  help  cut  the  building  material  while  the 
tide  is  out,  he  providing  them  the  while  with  food.  For 
the  roofing,  which  is  done  with  sago  leaves,  more  helpers 
are  invited.  These  then  hold  a  feast,  at  which  the  chiefs 
are  generally  present."  ^^ 

"  Numerous  instances  of  this  custom  in  Chapter  V  of  my  Arbeit  u. 
Rhythmus. 

•*  Parkinson,  Im  Bismarck-Archipel,  p.  115. 

"Riedel,  in  Ztschr.  f.  Ethnol.,  XVII  (1885),  pp.  7ofI.  Similarly  in 
New  Guinea,  Finsch,  Samoafahrten,  pp.  56  ff.  Among  the  Bagobos  in 
South  Mindanao:    SchadenberR  in  Ztschr.  f.  Ethnol.,  XVII,  pp.  19  ff. 

•*  Riedel,  as  above,  p.  61.  Kubary,  Ethnogr.  Beilrdge  z.  Kenntnis  d. 
Karolinen-Archipels,  p.  264.  C.  Hose,  The  Natives  of  Borneo,  in  Journ, 
of  Anthrop.  Inst.,  XXIII  (1894).  pp.  161,  162. 


270         UNION  OF  LMBOUR  y4ND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

Among  the  Madis  or  Morus  in  Central  Africa  each  culti- 
vates his  own  land;  if  it  is  of  considerable  extent,  and  re- 
quires more  hands  than  his  family  can  furnish,  he  calls  his 
friends  and  neighbours  to  his  assistance.     On  such  occa- 
sions payment  is  neither  given  nor  expected,  but  all  are 
ready  to  render  such  help  and  to  receive  it."     This  cus- 
tom appears  to  be  prevalent  throughout  Africa;  the  pos- 
sessor of  the  land  has,  as  a  rule,  to  supply  generous  enter- 
tainment to  the  whole  company.^s    Among  the  Gallas  the 
inhabitants  of  a  village  assemble  on  the  threshing-place  to 
thresh  the   panicles   of  the   durra  and   to   root   up   the 
corn  amid  the  singing  of  melodious  songs  adapted  to 
the  strokes  in  threshing.3»    Bidden  labour  is  also  common 
in  building  a  house.*"    Among  the  Hovas  of  Madagascar 
when  the  grave  of  an  important  man  is  to  be  built,  not  the 
relatives  and  members  of  his  tribe  alone  assist  in  trans- 
porting the  heavy  rocks,  but  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  vil- 
lage in  which  he  lived.    There  is  no  money-payment  for 
such  services;  in  its  stead,  however,  great  masses  of  pro- 
visions must  be  supplied  during  the  transport  of  the  heavy 
stones,  which  usually  lasts  many  days,  often  for  long  inter- 
mediate periods;  and  above  all  many  oxen  must  be  killed. 
As  the  people  are  accustomed  to  help  one  another,  no  in- 
considerable part  of  their  time  is  spent  in  such  services. 
On  the  highways  of  the  country  one  often  meets  great 
processions  of  two  to  three  hundred  men,  women  and 
slaves,  who  pull  by  starts  on  the  strong  ropes  by  which 


"Robert  Felkin  in  Proceedings  of  Roy.  Society  of  Edin.  1883/4 
p.  310. 

"  Endemann  in  Zt=,  hr.  f.  Ethnol.,  VI.  1874,  p.  27.  Pogge  in  Wiss- 
mann,  ( -utcr  deutsch.  Plagge quer  durch  Afrika.  p.  311.  Nachtigal.  Sahara 
u.  Sudan.  III.  p.  240.    Post,  Afr.  Jurisprudens,  II,  p.  172. 

••  Paulitschke,  Ethnogr.  Nordost-Afrikas.  I,  pp.  134,  217. 

"Schurtz,  Afr.  Gmrrbe,  p.  21. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


271 


means  the  stone,  placed  on  a  rough  boat,  is  drawn  for- 
ward.*^ 

The  Georgians  (Central  Transcaucasia)  resort  to  bidden 
labour  at  the  vintage,  in  sowing  and  harvesting  maize  and 
wheat,  in  hewing  and  drawing  wood  from  the  forest.  In 
Servia  it  is  customary  at  grass-mowing,  maize-cutting, 
plum  harvest,  the  vintage,  and  also  with  spinning,  weaving 
and  carpet-making;  in  many  parts  of  Russia  at  the  hay  and 
grain  harvests,  in  hoeing  turnips,  felling  timber,  transport- 
ing manure  and  in  ploughing,  as  well  as  with  the  women 
in  spinning  and  even  in  scrubbing  the  house.  In  Germany 
it  remains  quite  general  in  the  country  in  house-building 
and  locally  in  minor  agncultural  tasks  (flax-pulling,  bean- 
cutting,  sheep-washing).  It  is  an  expedient  of  independ- 
ent household  economy,  as  is  readily  seen,  and  recedes 
more  and  more  with  the  appearance  and  advance  of  the 
entrepreneur  system. 

But  in  most  cases  where  bidden  labour  was  formerly 
usual  the  large  landowner  will  still  engage  a  number 
of  labourers  if  he  is  not  able  to  hurry  along  the  work  fast 
enough  with  his  machines.  Labour  aggregation  becomes 
particularly  important  for  him  in  the  early  stages  of  a 
process  of  production  whose  final  stages  can  be  more 
cheaply  completed  when  carried  on  concurrently.  A 
meadow  could  perhaps  be  mowed  by  one  labourer  in  three 
days.  Yet  where  possible  the  owner  will  employ  six  or 
more  mowers  who  dispose  of  the  work  in  a  forenoon,  be- 
cause all  the  grass  should  lie  dried  uniformly  and  all  the 
hay  drawn  in  at  once.  Frequent  drawings  would  increase 
the  costs  of  production. 

Even  where  there  are  no  such  reasons  the  farmer 
whose  fields  are  intermixed  with  those  of  others  will  always 


"  Sibree,  Madagaskar,  pp.  255,  236. 


872         UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

prefer  to  undertake  the  fields  in  succession  with  all  his  help 
rather  than  divide  it  among  the  different  fields.  The  work 
goes  forward  better  and  more  briskly  in  company  than  in 
solitude,  for  no  one  will  lag  behind  the  others;  moreover, 
of  itself  the  rapid  progress  of  the  work  'Enlivens  the  work- 
ers, while  a  piece  of  work  in  which  no  progress  can  be 
recognised,  and  the  end  is  not  in  sight,  always  disheartens. 
Thus  the  six  mowers  in  the  instance  just  given  will,  with 
average  diligence,  finish  th^  meadow  not  in  one-sixth  of 
the  time  that  the  single  mower  with  the  same  diligence 
would  require,  but  in  a  shorter  time.  Moreover  with  large 
undertakings  in  which  the  proprietor  does  not  work  along 
with  the  others,  it  has  further  to  be  considered  that  with 
dispersion  of  the  workers  the  costs  of  supervision  per  unit 
of  acre  increase.*^ 

Labour  aggregation  belongs  almost  exclusively  to  the 
class  of  work  requiring  little  skill,  and  which  can  be  exe- 
cuted with  simple  manual  implements,  or  even  without 
any  tools  whatever.    It  is  thus  found  in  its  widest  extension 


*•  Even  in  the  Grundsdtse  d.  rationetten  Landwirthschaft  (4th  edition, 
Berlin,  1847),  I,  pp.  112  ff.,  of  A.  Thaer  we  find  the  following  rules: 
"  Large  tasks  are  never  to  be  undertaken  many  at  a  time,  especially  in 
places  at  a  considerable  distance.  As  far  as  possible  they  must  be 
finished  in  succession,  and  in  every  case  with  all  possible  energy, 
partly  on  account  of  the  superintendence,  partly  because  a  certain 
rivalry  can  be  awakened  among  the  workers  if  many  of  them  are  un- 
der supervision  together.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  task  is  extensive 
and  only  a  few  of  them  are  set  to  work,  they  become  almost  fright- 
ened at  its  extent  and  its  slow  progress  and  even  lose  courage,  and 
believe  that,  because  of  its  magnitude,  t  leir  absence  will  not  be  no- 
ticed. In  such  extensive  tasks  one  man  or  one  team  too  many  is 
always  better  than  one  too  few.  In  smaller  tasks,  on  the  contrary, 
care  must  be  taken  not  to  employ  more  than  are  necessary.  The  men 
easily  get  in  each  other's  way,  depend  upon  one  another,  readily  be- 
lieve that  their  work  has  been  thought  heavier  than  it  really  is." 
Similarly,  H.  Settegast,  Die  LandwirihsclMft  u.  ihr  Bctrieb,  I,  p.  313; 
III,  p.  138. 


i 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON.         2  75 

in  epochs  of  undeveloped  technique,*'  declining  as  the  im- 
plements of  labour  are  improved.  Yet  a  considerable 
sphere  still  remains  to  it.  The  grandest  instance  of  labour 
aggregation  is  at  all  times  presented  by  the  standing 
armies. 

When  a  large  number  of  persons  labour  together  two 
kinds  of  labour  aggregation  are  possible.  In  the  first  the 
individual  workmen  remain  independent  of  one  another 
during  the  moments  their  strength  is  called  into  play,  and 
work  together  only  for  the  more  speedy  disposition  of  the 
task.  We  will  designate  this  first  species  simple  aggrega- 
tion of  labour.  Instances  are  presented  in  several  masons 
working  on  a  new  structure,  a  number  of  pavers  on  a  road, 
a  group  of  diggers  or  snow-shovellers,  a  row  of  mowers 
or  turnip-hoers.  An  intermediate  form  is  offered  by  a 
band  of  African  carriers  marching  one  after  the  other  in 
single  file,  by  beaters  at  a  hunt,  by  several  ploughers  in  a 
field. 

In  the  second  case  the  activities  of  the  different  work- 
men do  not  proceed  independently  of  one  another,  but 
either  simultaneously  or  with  regular  alternations,  that  is, 
they  always  proceed  rhythmically  We  ^  '1  name  this  kind 
of  labour  agglomeration  concateiation  iboiir,  because  it, 
so  to  speak,  links  each  one  taking  pan 
neighbour  through  the  succession  ol  '' 
combining  all  by  means  of  the  tempo 
makes  it,  as  it  were,  an  automatical! 
All  tasks  falling  under  this  head  must.  \ 
time,  adopt  a  rhythmical  course.  The- 
sure,    that    are    completed    with    a    sm 


1  the  work  to  his 

movemeris,  and 

mity  (    system, 

kg  virganism. 

;e(l  for  some 

-e  some,  to  be 

exertion    of 


,: 


"This  was  the  case  especially  among  the  anc  • 
details  on  this  have  been  gathered  together  w 
pp.  109,  1 10. 


itian'      Some 
Kh_      "US, 


I;  1 


If-   'I; 


ii 


:  '* 


l! 

a 


874         UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

Strength,  such  as  several  lifting  a  heavy  weight  by  word  of 
command  or  pulling  down  the  trunk  of  a  tree  with  a  rope. 

The  tasks  of  this  class,  which  are  performed  rhythmic- 
ally, can  be  sub-divided  according  as  the  powers  of  the  in- 
dividual workers  are  exerted  simultaneously  or  alternately 
into  labours  with  coticurrent  tempo  and  labours  with  alternate 
tempo.** 

Labours  Zi'ith  concurrent  tempo  are  performed,  for  in- 
stance, by  the  two  lines  of  rowers  in  propelling  a  boat  by 
oars,  by  sailors  in  heaving  an  anchor,  in  hoisting  sail,  in 
towing  a  boat  against  the  stream,  by  carpenters,  who,  in 
laying  a  foundation  with  a  pile-driver,  drive  great  posts 
into  the  earth,  by  those  drawing  up  barrels,  and  generally 
by  all  groups  of  workmen  who  have  to  move  a  weight  by 
pulling  together  on  a  rope,  by  the  two,  four,  six,  or  eight 
people  carrying  a  hand-barrow  or  a  sedan-chair,  and  by 
.soldiers  on  the  march.  Very  frequently  the  keeping  of 
tune  during  the  work  is  assisted  by  simple  counting,  by  a 
chorus  among  the  workers,  or  by  the  sound  of  a  musical 
instrument,  especially  of  the  drum. 

Examples  of  workmen  labouring  with  alternate  tempo 
are:  three  stone-setters  hammering  in  time  the  pavement 
stones  with  their  paving-beetles;  three  or  four  threshers 
on  the  barn  floor,  two  smiths  hammering,  two  woodmen  in 
the  saw-pit  or  chopping  a  tree,  two  maids  blueing  linen  or 
beating  carpets. 

In  tasks  to  be  performed  with  concurrent  tempo  the 
problem  is  to  accomplish  by  combination  a  task  far  surpass- 
ing the  strength  of  one  person,  with  the  smallest  number  of 
labourers  possible,  so  that  all  taking  part  in  the  work 


i  V 


**  More  in  detail  in  my  paper  already  frequently  mentioned,  Arbeit  u. 
Rhythmus.  to  which  reference  may  once  for  all  be  made  for  the  follow- 
ing paragraphs  as  well. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN   COMMON.         275 


shall  be  led  to  apply  the  utmost  amount  of  energy  at  the 
same  moment. 

In  tasks  with  alternate  tempo  we  meet  as  a  rule  with 
labours  that  in  themselves  could  be  performed  by  a  single 
individual.  Generally  they  are  fatiguing  tasks  in  which 
the  various  motions,  such  as  raising  and  lowering  the  arms 
in  striking  with  the  threshing-flail,  require  more  or  less 
time.  The  individual  worker  here  is  always  tempted  to 
allow  himself  a  brief  pause  for  rest  after  each  stroke  or 
thrust,  and  thus  loses  the  rhythm  of  the  movements.  The 
strokes  or  blows  then  succeed  one  another  with  unequal 
force  and  at  irregular  intervals,  whereby  the  work  is  much 
more  tiring  in  its  results.  If  now  a  second  or  third  work- 
man be  added,  the  motions  of  each  individual  will  regulate 
themselves  by  the  rhythnnc  sound  that  the  instruments 
give  forth  in  striking  the  material  worked  upon.  A  quicker 
tempo  is  realized,  which  can  be  maintained  with  little  diffi- 
culty. Each  workman  remains  indeed  independent;  but 
he  must  adapt  his  movements  to  those  of  his  comrades. 
The  import  of  the  matter  is  thus  not  that  the  magnitude 
of  the  task  demands  a  doubling  or  tripling  of  forces,  but 
that  a  single  person  working  alone  cannot  maintain  a 
definite  rhythmical  motion. 

To  be  sure,  the  sole  consequence  of  calling  in  a  second 
or  third  workman  one  would  imagine  to  be  the  doubling 
or  tripHng  of  the  eflfect  of  one  workman's  expenditure,  yet 
this  kind  of  labour  concatenation  results  in  a  heightened 
production,  inasmuch  as  it  regulates  equably  for  each  the 
expenditure  of  force  and  the  pauses  for  rest.  The  single 
workman  lets  his  hands  fall  when  he  grows  tired,  or  at 
least  lengthens  the  tempo  of  his  movements.  Quick  lempo 
in  work  enlivens;  the  men  working  in  common  are  stimu- 
lated to  rivalry;  none  will  fall  behind  the  other  in  strength 
and  endurance. 


!: 


276 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


!, 

i     ; 
i   i 


This  pressure  upon  the  weaker  workman  to  equal  the 
stronger  becomes  prominent  in  some  tasks  with  a  some- 
what free  rhythm  in  which  the  concatenation  is  realized  by 
grouping  the  workmen  in  rows  and  making  the  progress 
of  the  work  of  the  one  row  dependent  upon  the  activity  of 
the  other.  In  a  line  of  mowers  in  a  meadow  each  man 
must  perform  his  task  uniformly  with  the  rest  if  he  is  not 
to  retard  the  man  following  him  or  run  the  risk  of  being 
struck  with  his  scythe.  In  a  line  of  labourers  handing  or 
tossing  each  other  the  bricks  for  building,  each  one  in  a 
se'  'cs  must  receive  with  equal  speed  if  he  does  not  want  to 
bring  the  whole  work  to  a  standstill. 

This  mutual  accommodation  of  workmen  to  each  other, 
which  is  peculiar  to  all  kinds  of  labour  concatenation,  thus 
becomes  a  disciplinary  element  of  the  greatest  importance, 
especially  for  unskilled  work,  such  as  preponderated  at 
primitive  stages  of  economic  and  technical  development. 
1 1  can,  indeed,  be  instituted  also  as  a  means  of  discipline 
to  accelerate  the  work  in  those  cases  of  labour  aggregation 
that  in  themselves  do  not  require  such  a  linking  of  move- 
ments. For  these  there  are  artificial  means  of  marking  the 
tempo  (counting,  singing,  accompaniment  of  music),  by 
means  of  which  simple  labour  aggregation  is  changed  into 
labour  concatenation.  This  is  the  case  with  slave  labour, 
which,  for  obvious  reasons,  must  always  be  carried  on  by 
gangs,  and  with  the  public  labours  of  primitive  people. 

In  Camerun  "  the  chief  Ngilla,  a  well-known  Moham- 
medan slave-hunter,  drew  up  his  people  in  companies  of 
one  hundred,  and  had  his  hoeing  done  to  the  beat  of  music 
which  followed.  Behind  these  workmen  marched  the  sow- 
ers to  the  same  beats,  throwing  see<ls  from  a  sack  which 
was  hung  about  them."  *^  Tlie  Basutos  assemble  every 
"  Meinecke,  />.  deutsch.  KoUmien  in  Wort  u.  Pild.  p   35,  with  illustra- 


tion. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


277 


year  to  cultivate  the  fields  necessary  for  the  personal  sus- 
tenance of  their  chief  and  his  principal  wife.  "  It  is  a  re- 
markable picture, "writes  the  missionar>-  Casalis,*"  "  to  see 
on  such  an  occasion  hundreds  of  black  men  drawn  up  in 
straight  lines  moving  their  hoes  up  and  down  in  unison. 
The  air  resounds  with  the  songs  by  which  the  workers  are 
enlivened,  and  by  which  they  can  keep  the  proper  time. 
The  chief  makes  a  point  to  be  present  and  sees  to  it  that 
several  fat  oxen  are  killed  and  made  ready  for  the  labour- 
ers. All  classes  adopt  the  same  plan  to  lighten  and  ex- 
pedite their  work;  but  among  the  common  people  it  rests 
on  reciprocity." 

The  last  example  shows  very  clearly  the  transition  from 
bidden  to  manorial  labour.  We  find  the  same  thing  in 
the  Soudan,  where  the  erection  and  repairing  of  the  village 
walls  in  particular  is  carried  out  to  the  accompaniment  of 
music;  and  again  among  the  Malays  and  the  Chinese,  who, 
since  early  times,  have  directed  the  public  manorial  services 
by  the  beat  of  the  drum.  In  Europe  also  this  means  has 
been  essayed.  In  the  Baltic  provinces  down  to  the  end  of 
the  eighteenth  century  landowners  had  their  harvesting 
done  by  the  serfs  to  the  rhythm  of  the  bagpipes,  and 
traces  of  similar  usage  are  at  hand  from  other  countries. 
In  our  modem  States  we  meet  with  this  species  of  labour 
concatenation  brought  about  by  artificial  means  only  in  the 
measured  cadence  of  military  forces,  where  the  aim  is  al- 
ways to  train  a  number  of  men  to  complete  unanimity  in 
their  exercise  of  strength,  and  where  the  breaking  of  the 
tempo  by  a  single  person  detracts  from  the  general  effect, 

"  Les  Bassoutos,  p.  171,  with  illustration.  Another  can  be  seen  in 
Gerland.  Atlas  d.  Ethnographie  (Leipzig,  1876).  Tab.  XXII,  No.  25. 
Similar  reports  by  K.  Endemann  of  the  Sotho  negroes  in  Ztschr.  f. 
Ethnol.,  VI.  pp.  26  and  yo:  Paulitsclike.  as  above,  I,  p.  216;  from  the 
Gallas  by  Harar;  and  on  the  Bagabos  in  Southern  Mindanao  by 
Schadcnberg  in  the  «amc  publication.  XV'II,  pp.  19,  20. 


278 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 


H,i 


il  » 


3.  We  come  now  to  the  last  kind  of  labour  in  com- 
mon, which  we  have  designated  joint  labour*''  Certain 
tasks  in  production  require  for  their  performance  the 
simultaneous  cooperation  of  various  classes  of  labour. 
These  latter  supplement  one  another,  and  may  be  called 
complementary  phases  of  labour.  Since  they  cannot 
possibly  be  performed  by  one  workman,  several  workmen 
of  various  kinds  must  be  combined  in  one  group  to  form 
an  organized  and  indivisible  whole.  Such  a  group  is  some- 
times called  gang,  company,  band.  (In  Bavaria  and  Aus- 
tria Pass;  *^  in  other  parts,  Rotte,  Truppe,  Bande.) 

Instances  from  agriculture  are  quite  numerous.  Thus  in 
drawing  in  hay  or  corn,  the  load-builder,  the  pitcher,  the 
after-raker,  in  binding,  the  binder  and  the  gatherer,  form 
natural  groups;  in  mowing  grain  a  second  person  is  re- 
quired to  glean,  in  digging  potatoes  another  gathers  them 
up.  From  the  sphere  of  industry  may  be  mentioned  the 
smith  and  the  bellows-man,  the  rope-maker  and  the  man 
who  turns  the  wheel,  mason  and  hod-carrier,  those  placing 
and  those  pounding  in  the  paving-stones;  from  other 
spheres:  the  cook  and  the  turnspit;  inn-keeper,  waiter,  and 
house-boy;  on  the  street-car,  driver  and  conductor;  in  the 
row-boat,  oarsman  and  steersman,  likewise  hunters  and 
beaters,  musician  and  dancer,  blower  and  organist,  drum- 
mers and  pipers,  judge,  bailiffs  and  clerk,  doctor  and  at- 
tendants, a  theatrical  troupe,  an  orchestra.  The  list  could 
be  continued  much  further. 

In  all  these  cases  it  is  not  a  question  of  processes  that 
have  arisen  through  division  of  labour  and  then  been  re- 
united, but  of  activities  of  quite  different  kinds,  none  of 
which  could  ever  exist  by  itself,  and  which,  therefore,  have 


' 


"  Arbeilsvrrbitidung. 

"Comp.  Schmeller,  Bayer.  H'orterbuch,  I.  p. 
words  is  not  clear. 


409.    The  origin  ot  the 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON.        2  79 

come  conjointly  into  being.  In  their  advancement  these 
occupations  are  dependent  on  one  another,  support  one 
another  and  only  together  from  a  coordinated  whole.  The 
workers  engaged  must  therefore  accommodate  themselves 
to  each  other;  the  one  must  work  into  the  hands  of  the 
other,  without  whom  he  could  accomplish  nothing  at  all. 
In  most  cases  his  labour  by  itself  would  be  quite  unpro- 
ductive. 

As  a  rule  there  will  be  in  such  associations  of  labour  an 
activity  that  can  be  designated  the  leading  or  dominant 
one,  while  the  other  is  subordinate  and  auxiliary.  Ac- 
cordingly th<;  personal  relationship  between  the  workmen 
employed  will  also  take  the  form  of  a  dependent  relation- 
ship. If  the  directing  workman  is  independent,  the  work- 
man who  in  technical  matters  is  dependent  will  frequently 
stand  in  the  relation  of  employee.  If  the  associated 
labour  is  made  part  of  an  undertaking  it  is  usual  for  the 
whole  work  ("  team-work,"  collective  piece-work)  to  have 
assigned  to  it  a  collective  wage,  as  is  the  case  with  the 
cigar  bunch-breaker  and  roller,  the  glass-blower  and  at- 
tendant. The  plan  thus  offers  a  means  of  applying  the 
system  of  piece-wage  even  in  cases  where  the  work  of  one 
labourer  cannot  be  separated  from  that  of  another  or  of 
several  others;  but  it  results  in  most  cases  to  the  disad- 
vantage of  those  who  perform  the  subordinate  labour.*" 

On  the  whole,  this  form  of  labour  in  common  belongs 
also  to  the  stage  of  undeveloped  technique  in  the  instru- 
ments of  production.  With  advancing  development  the 
supplanting  of  the  subordinate  labour  by  animal  or  me- 
chanical power  is  aimed  at.  The  most  familar  example  is 
offered  by  the  plough,  which  was  formerly  drawn  by  hu- 
man beings,  later  by  oxen.    In  this,  however,  the  combina- 

"  Comp.  Schloss,  Methods  of  Industrial  Remuneration,  rp-  (>i  ff- 


S! 


j; 

I 


im 


I  '  I 


a8o         i/WO//  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON. 

tion  of  labour  endured  some  time  longer,  inasmuch  as  a 
second  driver  or  several  drivers  were  required  besides  the 
ploughman,  until  at  length  a  more  perfect  construction  of 
the  plough  made  them  superfluous.^" 

In  conclusion,  it  is  again  to  be  emphasized  that  the  whole 
sphere  of  labour  in  common  belongs,  like  that  of  union  of 
labour,  preeminently  to  the  departments  and  the  epochs  of 
labour  possessing  little  or  no  capital.  They  are  the  re- 
source of  the  economically  frail.  As  such,  however,  their 
great  evolutionary  and  historical  importance  lies  in  their 
training  of  man  to  methodical  division  and  economy  of 
time,  to  self-subordination  to  a  general  aim,  and  to  regular 
and  intensive  labour.  These  supplement  each  other  in  that 
the  inherent  weakness  of  union  of  labour,  pervading 
the  life  of  each  man  in  primitive  times,  everywhere  finds  its 
counterpart  in  the  temporary  communities  of  labour  that 
arise  wherever  the  variously  employed  skill  of  the  indi- 
vidual is  inadequate  to  a  given  task.  Resting  originally 
on  custom  alone,  they  lead  in  course  of  time  to  relation- 
ships capable  of  legal  compulsion,  such  as  slavery  and  serf- 
dom. 

The  principles  of  union  of  labour  and  labour  in  common 
have  in  other  respects  contributed  little  to  the  creation  of 
permanent  organizations,  but  they  have  left  permanent 
works.    The  pyramids  and  stone  monuments  of  Egypt,  the 

*"  Interesting  modifications  of  the  system  of  combination  of  labour 
are  found  in  the  cases  where  more  expensive  implements  are  neces- 
sary, and  only  one  of  the  parties  pc  sesses  them,  while  the  others 
merely  contribute  their  labour.  In  North  Russia  this  is  particularly 
the  case  in  fishing,  and  again  in  the  work  of  ploughing,  where  the 
hitching  together  of  six  to  eight  animals  is  rendered  advisable  from 
the  heaviness  of  the  soil.  Examples  from  Wales,  Ireland,  and  Scot- 
land in  Secbohm,  Village  Communities  (4th  cd).  p.  81.  Meitzen,  Sicde- 
lung  u.  Agrarwesen  d.  IVestgermanen  u.  Ostgcrmancn.  d.  Kelten.  etc.,  I, 
pp.  212  fT.;  II.  pp.  ijo.  1.^0  Similarly  on  the  Bogos  in  the  mountains  of 
Abyssinia,  in  Post.  Afr.  Jurispimiens,  II,  pp.  184,  185. 


UNION  OF  LABOUR  AND  LABOUR  IN  COMMON.  2S1 

ruins  of  the  giant  cities  of  Mesopotamia,  tlie  structures 
of  the  peoples  of  early  American  civilization  must  be  ob- 
served if  we  would  know  what  human  beings  are  capable 
of  performing,  even  without  the  knowledge  of  iron,  with- 
out draught  animals,  and  without  such  simple  mechanical 
expedients  as  lever,  screw,  or  pulley,  when  united  by  one 
mighty  mind  in  community  of  work. 

For  science  also  the  two  phenomena  here  referred  to, 
now  that  they  have  been  defined,  maj  prove  themselves 
upon  unbiassed  testing  not  altogether  useless  building 
stones.  The  theory  of  labour  still  stands  in  need  of  further 
extension.  The  development  of  the  points  of  view,  which 
in  this  chapter  it  has  been  possible  in  most  cases  only  to 
indicate,  would  probably  show  that  there  is  still  much  to  be 
harvested  in  this  region.  For  we  have  even  now  an  inkling 
of  the  truth,  that  in  union  of  labour  and  labour  in  common 
much  more  subtle  psychical  influences  cooperate  than  in 
the  division  of  labour,  which  has  hitherto  been  the  almost 
exclusive  object  of  our  attention.  To  discover  them  all  is, 
indeed,  possibly  only  to  the  reflecting  and  self-observant 
worker. 


;i    ; 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


-  i 


5  i' 


In  most  of  the  sciences  nowadays  there  are  popular 
truths.  They  consist  as  a  rule  of  general  principles,  to 
which  their  propounders  have  given  such  initial  complete- 
ness of  form  and  substance  that  it  would  seem  as  if  they 
might  be  added  at  once  to  our  store  of  knowledge  as  an  as- 
sured acquisition  of  the  human  mind  incapable  of  being 
either  shaken  or  lost.  Such  truths  become  the  mental 
property  of  the  educated  with  a  rapidity  often  surprising. 
The  convenient  impress  they  bear  from  the  beginning 
makes  them  coins  for  intellectual  exchange  that  gain  cur- 
rency far  beyond  the  department  of  knowledge  for  which 
they  were  issued.  On  the  other  hand,  their  passage  over 
into  the  intellectual  and  linguistic  circulation  of  the  edu- 
cated world  serves  again  to  confirm  their  validity  within 
the  narrow  department  of  study  from  which  they  have 
sprung.  If  knowledge  is  making  rapid  progress  in  this 
department  it  comes  to  pass  that  these  now  popular  truths 
remain  inviolate  while  all  the  remaining  structure  of  the 
science  is  demolished  and  rebuilt.  They  are  like  inorganic 
bodies  overrun  and  enveloped  by  the  luxuriant  growth  of 
living  organisms. 

Such  is  the  case,  if  we  are  not  mistaken,  with  the  theory 
of  division  of  labour  in  political  economy.  In  its  present 
form  this  theory  dates  from  Adam  Smith,  and  its  popular- 
ity is  indeed  due  in  no  small  measure  to  the  external  cir- 
cumstance that  it  is  presented  in  the  first  chapter  of  Book  I 

282 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


283 


of  his  classical  work,  where  it  could  not  escape  even  the  le- 
gion of  those  who  merely  "  read  at  "  books.  Adam  Smith 
is,  of  course,  not  the  originator  of  the  theory.  He  borrows 
it  in  its  essential  features  from  the  Essay  on  the  History  of 
Civil  Society,  which  his  countryman,  Adam  Ferguson,  pub- 
lished in  1767.  Yet  the  theory  has  been  adopted  by  all 
later  students  in  the  agreeable  form  in  which  Smith  pre- 
sented it.  In  this  form  it  has  also  gone  over  into  other 
sciences  and  become  familiar  to  every  educated  person. 

In  essaying  then  to  subject  the  economic  theory  of  di- 
vision of  labour  to  a  critical  examination,  and  to  supple- 
ment this  examination  by  the  application  that  this  theory 
has  quite  recently  received  in  the  department  of  sociology, 
we  count  upon  dealing  with  a  circle  of  ideas  familiar  to 
many.^     For  this  last  application  marks  at  the  same  time 
one  of  the  few  attempts  made  by  economic  science  to  ad- 
vance on  this  point  beyond  Adam  Smith.     In  other  re- 
spects students  have  contented  themselves  with  correcting 
Smith's  theory  of  division  of  labour  in  subsidiary  points, 
tracing  it  back  historically  and  dogmatically  to  the  ancient 
Greeks,  adapting  explanatory  examples  to  the  technical 
advances  of  the  present,  and  besides  its  bright  sides,  bring- 
ing forward  the  dark  sides  as  well.     On  the  whole,  how- 
ever, our  remarks  on  popularized  scientific  truths  hold 
good  for  this  theor>-.    While  round  about  it  the  structure 
of    economic    theory    has    been    diligently    altered    and 
extended,    it    has    remained    intact.       Only    recently    a 
reputable  economic  writer,  in  a  critical  survey  of  the  pro- 
gress of  political  economy  since  Adam  Smith,  stated  that 
the  subject  is  exhausted;  that  regarding  it  one  can  but  re- 
peat what  has  been  already  said  by  others.^ 

'  Comp.  following  chapter. 

'  M.  Block,  Le  progrcs  de  la  science  rconomique  dcpuis  Adam  Smith 
(Paris,  2d  ed.,  1897).  I.  P-  533- 


ix^^ 


II 


■  M 


^'  fi' 


ff 


r  "•  ■' 


lit 


384 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


Under  these  circumstances  it  will  suffice  for  us  to  discuss 
the  subject  in  direct  connection  with  the  celebrated  Scotch- 
man's presentation  of  it.  We  will,  however,  not  cover  the 
whole  subject,  but  attempt  merely  to  answer  the  two  ques- 
tions:  What  is  division  of  labour?  and  How  does  it  operate? 

What  division  of  labour  is  we  can  nowhere  learn  from 
Adam  Smith.  He  illustrates  the  process  that  he  designates 
by  this  name  only  by  individual  examples,  and  from  them 
deduces  directly  the  statement  which  has  since  been 
termed  the  "  law  "  of  division  of  labour,  and  which  can  be 
summarized  in  the  words,  that  in  every  industry  the  pro- 
ductivity of  labour  increases  proportionately  with  the  ex- 
tension of  labour.'  His  examples,  however,  when  closely 
scrutinized  by  no  means  illustrate  similar  economic 
processes. 

There  is  first  the  celebrated  instance  of  the  pin-manufac- 
tory. With  the  ordinary  workman,  who  is  not  particularly 
adept  at  this  special  branch  of  business  and  who  perhaps 
could,  with  his  utmost  industry,  make  scarcely  one  pin  in 
a  day,  and  certainly  could  not  make  twenty,  Smith  con- 
trasts the  factory  in  which  a  considerable  number  of  work- 
men with  divided  labour  produce  similar  wares.  "  One 
man  draws  out  the  wire;  another  straights  it;  a  third  cuts 
it;  a  fourth  points  it;  a  fifth  grinds  it  at  the  top  for  receiv- 
ing the  head;  to  make  the  head  requires  two  or  three  dis- 
tinct operations,"  etc.  In  this  manner  there  result  up  to 
the  completion  of  the  pin  eighteen  distinct  operations,  each 
of  which  can  be  transferred  to  a  particular  hand.  Smith 
finds  that  in  such  a  cooperating  group  of  workers  the  out- 
put of  each  individual,  as  compared  with  that  of  the  la- 

'The  correctness  of  this  sharp  formulation  is  manifest  from  the 
wo'ds  of  the  first  chapter:  "  The  division  of  labour,  so  far  as  it  can 
be  introduced,  occasions  in  every  part  a  proportionable  increase  of  the 
productive  powers  of  labour." 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR.] 


28s 


bourer  working  separately  and  prodacing  the  whole  pro- 
duct, is  increased  a  hundred,  indeed  a  thousandfold. 

This  example  has  been  repeated  even  to  wer-iness;  it 
has  become,  in  general,  the  classic  type  of  division  of 
labour.  Most  people  can  conceive  of  it  only  in  this 
one  form,  the  form  of  a  factory  in  which  the  total  labour 
necessary  to  the  production  of  the  ware  is  divided  into  as 
many  simple  operations  as  possible,  carried  on  simultane- 
ously by  different  persons  in  the  same  establishment.* 

But  Adam  Smith  has  not  confined  himself  to  this  exam- 
ple. He  calls  it  also  division  of  labour  when  a  product  has 
to  pass  through  various  trades  and  employments  in  a  coun- 
try, from  the  procuring  of  the  raw  material  till  it  is  ready 
for  use;  as,  for  instance,  the  wool  through  the  hands  of  the 
sheep-breeder,  the  spinner,  the  weaver,  and  the  dyer.  In 
a  rude  state  of  society  all  this,  he  points  out,  is  the  work  of 
one  man;  in  every  improved  society,  on  the  contrary,  the 
farmer  is  generally  nothing  but  a  farmer;  the  manufacturer 
nothing  but  a  manufacturer.  The  labour,  too,  that  is 
necessary  to  produce  any  complete  manufacture,  is  almost 
always  divided  among  a  great  number  of  hands. 

Smith  makes  no  distinction  between  the  two  kinds  of 
division  of  labour,  and  ascribes  to  both  the  same  effects. 
But  it  does  not  require  lengthy  consideration  to  recog- 
nise that  we  are  here  dealing  with  two  distinct  processes. 
In  the  case  of  the  manufacture  of  woollen  cloth  a  whole 
process  in  production  is  separated  into  various  depart- 
ments. Each  of  these  departments  becomes  an  inde- 
pendent economic  organism;   and  a  ware  must,  from  the 

•  Helmolt,  De  laboris  divisione,  1840,  (a  Doctor's  Dissertation  from 
the  University  of  Utrecht,)  pp.  38,  39:  "  Ubi  plures  operarii  siinul  opus 
quoddam  conficiunt.  singuli  vero  continue  eadem  operis  parte  sunt 
occupati,  ut,  si  aliquid  perfecerint  eandem  rem  de  novo  aggrediantur." 
And  yet  Ferguson  had  previously  entitled  his  chapter  on  the  division 
of  labour:   "  On  the  Separation  of  Arts  and  Professions." 


286 


DiyiSION  OF  LABOUR. 


'I   1° 


procuring  of  the  raw  material  on,  pass  through  a  series  of 
trades  before  it  can  be  offered  ready  for  consumption,  each 
change  in  ownership  involving  a  charge  for  profits.  In  the 
case  of  the  pin,  on  the  contrary,  the  manufacture  of  the 
object  of  the  division  of  labour  does  not  constitute  a  com- 
plete process  in  production,  but  merely  a  single  depart- 
ment. For  its  raw  material,  the  wire,  is  already  well  ad- 
vanced towards  completion.  The  result  of  the  division  is 
not  a  series  of  new  trades,  but  a  chain  of  dependent  em- 
ployments whose  successful  utilization  under  present  con- 
ditions postulates  the  existence  of  wage-workers  held  to- 
gether by  one  entrepreneur.  The  product,  before  it  is 
completed,  passes,  it  is  tnie,  through  a  larger  number  of 
hands  than  previously,  but  it  undergoes  no  change  of  pro- 
prietorship. 

Two  industrial  processes  so  thoroughly  different  de- 
mand different  names.  We  will  designate  the  division  of  a 
whole  process  of  production  into  several  industrially  inde- 
pendent sections  division  of  production;  and  the  breaking 
up  of  a  department  of  production  into  simple  dependent 
labour  elements  subdivision  of  labour.'^ 

Finally  Adam  Smith  cites  a  third  example  that  is  neither 
division  of  production  nor  subdivision  of  labour.  He  com- 
pares three  smiths:  a  common  smith,  who  can  handle  the 
hammer  well,  but  has  never  been  accustomed  to  make 
nails,  a  second  smith  who  has  been  accustomed  to  make 
nails,  but  has  not  this  for  his  sole  or  principal  occupation, 
and  finally  a  nail-smith  who  has  never  followed  any  other 
calling.  He  finds  that  if  all  three  make  nails  for  a  definite 
period  the  work  done  increases  according  as  the  workman 
limits  himself  to  the  production  of  one  product.  It  is  this 
hmitation  to  the  exclusive  production  of  a  single  line  of 
goods  that  he  calls  division  of  labour. 

*  Produktwnsteilmg  and  Arbeitszcrlegung. 


DIVISION  OF  L/1BOUR. 


287 


i 


The  justification  for  this  nomenclature  is  not  at  once 
apparent.    What  is  divided?    Where  are  the  parts? 

Manifestly  Smith  conceives  the  whole  business  of  a 
smith  who,  as  in  olden  times,  makes  horseshoes,  plough- 
shares, and  wheel-tires,  as  well  as  axes,  spades,  and  nails, 
as  the  subject  of  the  division.    From  this  comprehensive 
department  of  production  a  line  of  products  is  separated, 
and  their  production  taken  over  by  a  special  workmar 
nail-smith,  while  the  remaining  products  continue  to 
part  of  the  smith's  work.    The  articles  formerly  prod 
jointly  in  the  one  business  of  the  smith  are  for  the  k. 
manufactured  in  two  different  businesses.    In  the  plact 
one  industry  there  are  now  two;  and  each  forms  £0*     .4 
individual  a  separate  business  or  vocation. 

It  is  clear  that  in  this  case  it  is  neither  a  question  ot  cut- 
ting a  somewhat  extensive  process  of  production  into  va- 
rious sections,  nor  of  si.  ling  such  a  section  ittto  its 
simplest  elements.  For,  as  h  himself  explair^N  the 
labour  process  of  the  nailer  is  neither  shorter  nor  less 
complex  than  the  smith's:  each  for  himself  blov  he  bel- 
lows, stirs  the  fire,  heats  the  iron,  and  forges  ev  pan  >t 
the  product.  A  change  has  taken  place  only  m  one  re- 
spect: each  applies  this  process  to  fewer  classes  of  good- 
Under  the  system  of  divided  labour,  however,  the  goo.Ls 
produced,  taken  singly,  do  •,  )t  pass  through  more  hands 
than  formerly.  We  will  cal!  this  third  species  of  division 
of  labour  specialization  or  division  of  trades. 

How  specialization  is  distinguished  from  subdivision  of 
labour  is  readily  perceived.  The  one  is  a  division  of  the 
whole  task  of  production  between  different  businesses; 
the  other  takes  place  within  a  single  business.  It  is  per- 
haps more  difficult  at  first  sight  to  distinguish  division  of 
production  and  specialization  of  trades.  In  division  of 
production  cross-cuts,  as  it  were,  are  made  through  a 


I;'    i'-'V 


m 


ii  I 


288 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


somewhat  extensive  process  of  production;  in  specializa- 
tion a  distinct  department  of  business  is  split  lengthwise. 

To  offer  a  simple  example,  the  production  of  leather 
articles  of  use  was  originally  confined  to  the  one  estab- 
lishment. The  Siberian  nomad  and  the  Southern  .Slav 
peasant  still  procure  the  hides,  tan  them,  and  out  of  the 
leather  make  footwear,  harness,  etc.,  within  their  own 
household  establishment.  In  the  countries  of  Western 
Europe  the  trades  of  the  tanner  and  the  currier  had 
arisen  by  the  early  Middle  Ages.  Leather  goods 
down  to  their  finished  condition  then  passed  through 
three  trades, — that  of  the  furnisher  of  the  hides,  of  the 
tanner,  and  of  the  currier.  That  was  divis.  i  of  produc- 
tion. In  time  the  special  handicrafts  of  the  shoemaker, 
the  saddler,  the  strap-maker,  the  maker  of  fine  leather 
goods,  etc.,  have  separated  themselves  from  the  large 
industry  of  the  currier;  and  each  produces  a  particu- 
lar class  of  leathei  wares  by  approximately  the  same 
process  of  work.  That  is  specialization,  or  division  of 
trades. 

In  division  of  production,  o  use  a  simile,  the  whole 
stream  of  production  of  gooas  is  from  time  to  time 
dammed  up  by  weirs;  with  specialization  it  is  diverted  into 
numerous  small  channels  and  rivulets. 

In  his  explanatory  examples  Smith  goes  no  farther 
than  this.  We  may  also  for  the  present  pause  here 
and  lay  before  ourselves  the  question:  What  led  the 
"  father  of  political  economy  "  to  embrace  under  the  one 
name  division  of  labour  three  processes  so  different  as 
division  of  production,  subdivision  of  work,  and  specializa- 
tion? Wherein  are  these  processes,  whose  fundamental 
differences  we  have  been  able  only  briefly  to  indicate,  es- 
sentially similar? 

The  true  response  to  this  question  will  at  the  same  time 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


289 


furnish  us  with  the  simplest  and  broadest  definition  of 
division  of  labour,  a  definition  which  must  be  accepted  by 
all  who,  on  this  point,  have  followed  Adam  Smith,  that  is, 
by  all  scientific  political  economists." 

Manifestly  those  three  different  kinds  of  division  of 
labour  have  only  the  following  in  common  with  each 
other:  all  three  are  f^rocesses  in  the  economic  evolution  of 
society  which  have  orif;inated  through  acts  of  human  volition, 
and  in  which  an  eco'wnic  task  is  transferred  from  tlie  one 
person  hitherto  performing  it  to  several  persons,  the  transfer 
being  so  made  that  each  of  these  performs  but  a  separate  part 
of  the  previous  total  labour.  Division  of  labour  will  ac- 
cordingly always  be  characterized  by  an  increase  in  the 
number  of  labourers  necessar}'  for  the  accomplishment  of 
a  definite  economic  end,  and  at  the  same  time  by  a  differ- 
entiation of  work.  The  economic  tasks  become  simplified, 
better  adapted  to  limited  human  capacities;  they  become, 
as  it  were,  individualized.  Hence  division  of  labour  is  al- 
ways at  the  same  time  classification  of  labour,  organiza- 
tion of  labour  in  accord  with  the  economic  principle;  its 
result  is  ever  the  cooperation  of  varied  energies  in  a  com- 

*  Those  savants  of  course  excepted  who  no  longer  define  at  all. 
Most  later  definitions  overlook  the  causal  force  of  the  word  division, 
and  in  place  of  the  process  of  division  put  the  realized  condition. 
Schmoller,  for  instance,  understands  by  division  of  labour  "the  per- 
manent adaptation  of  the  individual  to  a  specialized  life-work  affecting 
and  dominating  the  whole  life  "  (Jhrb.  f.  Gesetzg.,  Verw.  u.  Volksw., 
XIV,  47).  He  thus  forces  under  division  what  can  be  but  its  result. 
E.  V.  Philippovich  states  in  his  Grundriss  d.  Pol.  Gel:.,  I,  50:  "  Division 
of  labour  is  the  actual  divided  performance  of  tasks  leading  to  a  com- 
mon end.  It  assun  s,  lik-  every  division,  a  unity  from  whose  stand- 
point the  labour  of  tie  individual  appears  not  as  something  exclusive 
and  self-contained,  but  as  a  part  of  a  larger  whole.  This  unity  is  de- 
termined either  by  society  as  a  whole,  or  by  some  organization  of 
society  into  separate  parts."  But  why  first  construct  this  totality? 
Why  not  begin  with  it?  Society  and  tbe  business  undertaking  have 
surely  not  been  divided;  they  are  but  results  of  the  division  of  labour. 


\4 


290 


DiyiSION  OF  LABOUR. 


I'll 


if 


1  i 


n 


?  f 


mon  work  which  could  formerly  only  be  performed  by  a 
single  pair  of  hands. 

Keeping  this  clearly  in  mind,  and  passing  in  review  from 
this  standpoint  the  whole  field  of  the  economic  employ- 
ment of  labour  in  its  historical  and  contemporary  develop- 
ment, we  soon  recognise  that  with  the  typical  examples 
of  Adam  Smith  and  the  three  kinds  of  division  of  labour 
deduced  by  us  from  them,  the  range  of  the  latter  is  by  no 
means  exhausted.  We  find,  on  the  contrary,  a  fourth  and 
a  fifth  type  of  division  of  labour,  which  we  will  designate 
respectively  the  formation  of  trades  and  the  displacement  of 
labour. 

Let  us  begin  with  the  fonnation  of  trades,  which  should 
indeed   rank   first    in   an   enumeration   of   the    kinds   of 
division  of  labour.    For  it  forms  the  beginning  of  all  eco- 
nomic development.     To  understand  it  one  must  start 
from  the  conception,  that  before  the  origin  of  a  national 
economy  the  different  peoples  pass  through  a  condition  of 
pure  private  economy  in  which  each  house  has  to  produce 
through  the  labour  of  its  members  all  that  is  required. 
This  labour  can  be  divided  among  the  members  of  the 
household  in  various  ways,  according  to  age,  sex,  and 
physical  strength,  and  according  also  to  their  relation  to 
the  father  of  the  family.    But  this  distribution  of  labour  is 
not  division  of  lal)Our  from  the  standpoint  of  society,  for  its 
eflfects  remain  restricted  to  the  household  and  exert  no 
creative  influence  upon  other  economies;  nor  does  it  in- 
fluence the  formation  of  classes  in  society.    At  this  stage 
there  are.  therefore,  all  varieties  of  agricultural  and  in- 
dustrial techniciue:  but  there  is  no  system  of  agriculture, 
no  industry,  no  trade  as  a  separate  branch  of  business: 
there  are  no  peasants,  no  industrial  classes,  no  merchants 
as  social  business  groups. 

This  state  of  affairs  is  altered  as  soon  as  individual  tasks 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


291 


:s 


separate  from  this  many-sided  activity  and  become  sub- 
jects of  vocations,  the  bases  of  particular  business  occupa- 
tions. The  way  for  this  advance  is  prepared  by  the 
division  of  labour  of  the  great  slave  and  serf  husbandries. 
We  cannot,  however,  treat  of  these  here.  The  part  that 
detaches  itself  from  the  range  of  work  of  the  autonomous 
domestic  establishment  and  becomes  a  separate  and  inde- 
pendent business  is  at  one  time  a  complete  process  of 
production,  for  example,  pottery;  or  again,  a  single 
section  in  production,  for  example,  cloth-fulling,  corn- 
grinding;  •  or  still  again,  a  species  of  personal  service,  for 
example,  surgical  work.  Most  frequently,  however,  it  is 
the  productive  part  of  the  domestic  labours  that  is 
abridged  through  the  formation  of  trades;  and  in  the 
course  of  centuries  these  labours  are  more  and  more  re- 
stricted to  the  province  of  consumption.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  arise  the  different  branches  of  production  and 
the  various  industries  which  through  specialization  and 
division  of  production  become  multiplied  ad  infinitum. 

It  would  be  a  mistake,  however,  to  imagine  that  this 
process  of  the  formation  of  vocations  which  begins  with 
us  in  the  early  Middle  Ages  has  long  been  completed. 
Parts  of  the  old  domestic  economy  are  still  falling 
away;  in  the  country,  slowly;  in  the  towns,  more  rapidly. 
Every  city  directory  can  disclose  to  us  a  series  of  inde- 
pendent industries  which  have  come  into  existence  only 
within  the  present  century,  through  the  splitting  up  of 
former  single  phases  of  domestic  activity. 

Of  course  it  wouUl  be  erroneous  to  assume  that  each 
instance  of  a  new  trade  which  is  not  division  of  an  old  trade 
or  <if  a  branch  o\  production  is  to  bi>  traced  hack  to  divi- 
sion of  labour  between  household  and  new  business  occu- 

*In  this  case  the  formation  of  a  trade  is  at  tlif  same  time  division 
of  production. 


I  ^f 


I  I 


25a  DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 

nations.  A  bicycle-factoiy,  a  galvanizing  or  electrical 
establishment,  an  ice-factory,  and  a  photographic  atelier 
are  industrial  undertakings  owing  their  origin  not  to 
division  of  labour,  but  to  the  rise  of  entirely  new  species  of 
goods.  They  must  accordingly  be  excluded  from  this  sur- 
vey Yet  they  are  not  on  that  account  beyond  the  mflu- 
ence  of  division  of  labour,  since  from  the  beginning  they 
accommodate  themselves  to  the  forms  of  production  con- 
ditioned by  such  divisi^  n.  .     ,        ^ 

Connected  only  ex  rnally  with  this  process  is  the  phe- 
nomenon that  we  have  already  termed  displacement  of 
labour  It  accompanies  the  invention  of  new  machines  and 
other  f^xed  tools  of  labour.  The  division  of  labour  here 
operates  in  the  following  manner: 

With  the  introduction  into  a  branch  of  production  of  a 
newly-invented  machine  there  is  a  complete  displacement 
of  the  previous  organization  of  work.     As  a  rule  the 
mechanism  undertakes  only  separate  movements  that  un- 
til then  have  fallen  to  the  human  hand;  and  m  the  busmess 
installing  the  machine  the  sole  initial  change  is  generally 
the  transfer  of  the  workman,  who  formerly  performed 
those  muscular  motions,  to  attendance  upon  the  machine, 
which  demands  from  him  other  muscular  motions.     In 
this  way,  for  instance,  after  the  intr.  .duction  of  the  sewing- 
machine,  the  labourer  in  the  tailoring  establishment  works 
with  hand  and  foot,  while  formeriy  his  hand  alone  was 
called  into  action,  and  then,  moreover,  in  a  difTereat  man- 
ner. 

But  even  previously  to  that  there  were  many  more  per- 
sons engaged  in  the  making  of  a  coat  than  the  tailor. 
There  were  in  the  first  place  the  producers  of  the  ma- 
terials used  bv  the  tailor:  the  wool-producer,  the  spinner, 
the  weaver,  the  dyer,  etc.:  then  the  producers  of  fine  im- 
plements: the  needle-manufacturer,  the  scissors-manufac- 


DiyiSION  OF  LABOUR. 


293 


turer,  and  many  others.  All  these  producers  still  continue 
active  after  the  introduction  of  a  sewing  machine.  But  a 
new  one  is  added,  the  machine-manufacturer;  or,  since  the 
machine  is  produced  through  subdivision  of  work,  at  once 
a  whole  group:  the  machine-fitter,  the  founder,  the  metal- 
turner,  the  carpenter  for  the  models,  the  mounter,  the  var- 
nisher,  etc.  We  have,  if  we  embrace  under  our  view  the 
whole  pr-  ess  of  production,  a  part  of  the  total  labour 
pushed  back  from  a  later  to  an  earlier  stage.  The  work 
oi  tailoring  is  in  part  transferred  from  the  tailoring  estab- 
lishment to  the  machine  factory. 

The  whole  process  is  typical,  and  undoubtedly  exhibits 
the  characteristics  of  division  of  labour.    If  we  employ  for 
it  the  exnression  displacement  of  labour  the  phrase  must  be 
understood  in  a  local  and  temporal  sense.     As  regards 
locality,  displacement  of  labour  means  the  partial  trans- 
ference of  the  manufacture  of  an  article  from  one  place 
of  production  to  another;  as  regards  time,  it  signifies  the 
substitution  of  work  that  has  been  previously  performed 
for  work  being  performed  now,  the  pushing  back  of  a  sec- 
tion of  the  work  that  was  formerly  devoted  to  the  pro- 
duction of  consumption  goods  to  the  furnishing  of  the 
means  of  production.     In  this,  however,  it  is  not  at  all 
necessary  that  a  new  undertaking  should  be  formed  to 
produce  the  new  implement  of  labour  exclusively.     For, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  sewing-machine,  a  machine-factory 
already  in  existence  can  undertake  its  production.     The 
essential  thing  to  note  is  that  the  new  process  for  the  pro- 
duction of  clothing  contains  an  increased  number  of  dif- 
ferent employments,  and  accordingly  claims  the  service  of 
more  labourers. 

We  have  now  become  acquainted  with  five  diflfercr.t 
kinds  of  economic  processes  falling  under  the  head  of 
division   of   labour,    which   are   still    in   operation   every 


294 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


I 

nr 


«:• 


\4 


i  i 
IP 


■     |H 


:  ^- 


day  before  our  eyes.  This  is  of  course  saying  very  little  as 
to  their  relative  importance  in  modern  industrial  life.  For 
the  latter  is  itself  the  result  of  a  long  process  of  develop- 
ment; and  he  who  regards  it  with  the  eye  of  an  historical 
student  will  find  everywhere  side  by  side  the  most  primi- 
tive and  the  most  modern:  the  one  with  a  modest,  the 
other  with  a  ubiquitously  prominent  sphere  of  influence. 
Society  in  its  long  evolution  from  the  isolated  to  the  social 
economy  has  ever  been  seeking  and  finding  new  methods 
of  organization  in  work.  But  it  has  not  on  that  account 
discarc  '  the  old,  nor  will  it  discard  them  so  long  as  their 
roles  have  not  been  completely  played.  For  here  too  the 
great  law  of  economy  prevails;  nothing  is  lost  that  is  still 
capable  of  being  at  any  point  advantageously  employed. 

This  also  holds  for  the  various  forms  of  division  of 
labour.    Even  though  subdivision  of  work  and  displace- 
ment of  labour  at  present  surpass  in  importance  specializa- 
tion and  division  of  production,  and  even  though  forma- 
tion of  trades  as  a  species  of  division  of  labour  need  hardly 
be  longer  taken  into  account,  none  of  these  piinciples  of 
economic  organization  has  ceased  to  operate.    Each  con- 
tinues active  in  the  places  where  it  can  still  assert  its  force. 
In  economic  history  each  of  them  has  had  a  period  of 
preponderance.    Formation  of  trades  appears  with  us  in 
the  early  Middle  Ages.    The  chief  activity  of  specializa- 
tion is  coincident,  with  the  prime  of  municipal  develop- 
ment.    Division   tl  production  begins  at  the  same  time. 
Its  whole  force  in  the  economy  of  capital,  however,  is  de- 
veloped only  after  subdivision  of  work  and  displacement 
of  labour  begin  to  operate,  and  neither  of  these  can  with 
certainty  be  trared  back  beyond  the  seventeenth  century. 
It  is  with  reluctance  that  we  refrain  from  a  detailed 
presentation  of  the  historical  conditions  governing  ihem, 
as  well  as  of  the  causes  and  consequences  nf  their  appear- 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


295 


ance.  We  are  the  more  loth  because  only  in  this  way  can 
the  sharp  distinctions  we  have  made  between  the  different 
processes  find  their  full  justification,  and  the  traditional 
abstract  treatment  of  the  whole  matter  its  refutation.  We 
must,  however,  devote  a  few  general  words  to  the  cause 
and  result  of  division  of  labour.  For  the  distinguishing  of 
those  five  kinds  of  the  latter  would  necessarily  appear 
scientifically  unimportant,  or  an  idle  nicety  of  refinement, 
if  all  stood  in  like  casual  connection  with  the  economic 
phenomena  that  precede  or  follow  them. 

Adam  Smith  derives  all  division  of  labour  from  one  com- 
mon origin:  man's  natural  propensity  to  trade.  He  does 
not  determine  whether  this  is  the  result  of  instinct  or  of 
conscious  mental  action.  He  thus  renounces  a  sharp  psy- 
chological analysis  of  economic  action,  and  contents  him- 
self with  considering  division  of  labour  as  deep-rooted  in 
the  dark  depths  of  instinct. 

In  this,  however,  he  falls  foul  of  his  own  examples.    For 
if  division  of  labour  has  its  origin  in  an  immemorial  in- 
stinct of  man.  then  it  is  a  fundamental  factor  of  economic 
life,  which  must  assert  itself  whenever  and  wherever  men 
exist.     Yet  Adam  Smith's  examples  regularly  set  over 
against  the  condition  of  divided  labour  a  condition  of  un- 
divided labour,  and  deduce  the  former  from  the  latter. 
For  this  has  to  be  inferred  from  the  dynamic  employment 
of  the  word  division.    There  actually  existed  for  centuries, 
as  we  already  know,  a  condition  of  society  in  which  divi- 
sion of  labour  was  wanthig:  and  the  different  kinds  of  the 
latter  can  be  pretty  definitely  determined  by  the  time  of 
their  origin.    Social  division  of  labour  is  thus  generally  a 
historical  category-,  and  not  an  elemental  economic  phe- 
nomenon. 

The  same  is  true  of  exchange.    Just  as  there  have  been 
epochs  without  economic  division  of  labour,  so  there  have 


396 


DiyiSlON  OF  LABOUR. 


l\%" 


M 


I    »2 
I 


1 


been  epochs  without  exchange.  The  first  acts  of  trade  do 
not  appear  simultaneously  with  division  of  labour,  but 
long  precede  it.  They  serve  the  purpose  of  equalizing 
casual  surpluses  and  deficiencies  that  have  made  their  ap- 
pearance in  otherwise  autonomous  economies.  Exchange 
is  here  something  accidental;  it  is  not  a  necessary  con- 
comitant of  the  husbandry  of  the  time.  Even  when  with 
the  formation  of  trades  social  division  of  labour  arises,  ex- 
change is  still  very  active  in  forms  which  it  is  the  evident 
purpose  to  exclude  as  far  as  possible.  The  housewife  of 
early  time  uses  the  hand-mill  to  grind  the  corn  she  herself 
has  grown,  and  from  the  flour  thus  produced  she  bakes 
her  bread.  After  the  industries  of  the  miller  and  the  baker 
have  been  established  the  grinding  is  turned  over  to  the 
miller,  and  the  baker  then  receives  the  flour  to  make 
bread  of.  From  raw  material  to  finished  product  the  new 
article  of  consumption  has  never  changed  its  proprietor. 
For  their  pains,  miller  and  baker  are  allowed  to  retain  a 
definite  part  of  their  product.  In  the  whole  process  of 
production  with  divided  labour  this  is  the  sole  occurrence 
partaking  of  the  nature  of  exchange. 

From  this  one  readily  recognises  that  the  alleged  pro- 
pensity to  trade  is  for  Adam  Smith  only  a  means  of  extri- 
cating himself  from  an  embarrassment.  We  can  the  more 
readily  spare  ourselves  the  trouble  of  entering  further  into 
this  point  since  recent  economists  have  not  accepted  this 
tenet  of  their  Scottish  master.  They  rather  prefer  to  re- 
gard exchange  as  the  unintentional  result  of  division  of 
labour.  This  we  can  accept,  with  the  limitation  that  v/ith 
<livided  labour  exchange  becomes  necessary  from  the  mo- 
ment that  the  producer  possesses  all  the  means  of  jifoduc- 
tion.  It  tlien  becomes  a  vital  element  of  each  economy; 
and  from  this  point  on  almost  cver>'  advance  in  division  of 
labour  increases  the  number  of  necessary  acts  of  exchange. 


I  -%i 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


297 


But  this  Stage  of  development  is  not  reached  tiJ  centuries 
after  the  earliest  origin  of  economic  division  of  labour. 
Even  to-day,  for  example,  it  is  by  no  means  the  rule  m 
country  parts  for  the  miller  to  own  the  corn  and  the  baker 
the  flour,  and  a  triple  exchange  to  be  necessary  before  the 
consumers  can  come  into  possession  of  the  bread. 

If  then  exchange  is  merely  a  secondary  phenomenon  m 
the  evolutionary  processes  of  social  division  of  labour,  we 
are  by  this  very  fact  compelled  to  seek  another  motive 
for  man's  efforts  toward  this  division. 

In  this  we  are  led  back  directly  to  the  fundamental  facts 
of  economy:  the  boundless  extent  of  human  needs,  and 
the  limited  means  of  satisfying  them.    Human  needs  are 
capable  of  an  infinite  multiplication  and  subdivision;  they 
are  never  at  rest;  they  increase  in  degree  and  extent  with 
the  progress  of  civilization.     The  material  suitable  for 
human  ends  is  limited,  as  is  also  human  labour  which  in- 
vests it  with  the  qualities  of  a  marketable  ware  and  in- 
creases its  quantity.    With  the  increase  in  the  number  of 
human  beings  the  relation  of  the  total  demand  to  the 
mass  of  raw  material  capable  of  profitable  utilization 
which  nature  can  offer  becomes  even  more  unfavourable. 
The  quantity  of  labour  necessary  to  satisfy  the  total  re- 
quirement thus  increases  for  a  double  reason:  more  and 
better  goods  are  to  be  produced:  and  they  are  to  be 
turned  out  under  more  unfavorable  conditions.  The  share 
in  head-work  falling  to  each  one  engaged  in  the  under- 
taking would  thus  become  at  length  intolerable  were  it  not 
possible  to  reduce  it  through  an  economic  employment  o. 

labour. 

Now  simi  'e  observation  teaches  that  every  person  is 
not  equally'  qualified  by  nature  for  every  employment. 
The  differing  bodily  and  intellectual  tendencies  of  indi- 
viduals necessarilv  occasion  important  differences  in  the 


298 


DmSION  OF  LABOUR. 


.1 
f 


products  of  labour;  and  these  differences  become  ever 
more  marked  with  advancing  social  development  or,  what 
is  the  same,  with  increasing  variety  of  work  to  be  per- 
formed. The  principle  of  economy  requires  that  every- 
one's employment  befit  one's  capabilities;  for  only  in  this 
way  can  labour  yield  its  highest  service.  To  have  "  the 
right  man  in  the  right  place  "  becomes  all  the  easier  as  the 
tasks  increase  in  number  and  each  is  permanently  con- 
signed to  a  special  hand. 

Along  with  the  multiplication  of  occupations  comes  a 
simplification.  Every  composite  work  means  for  the  indi- 
vidual executing  it  a  frequent  change  of  motions,  and 
every  such  change  a  waste  of  energy.  For  passing 
from  one  kind  of  movement  to  another  calls  for  mental 
and  bodily  accommodation  to  the  new  class  of  work,  which 
means  an  outlay  of  strength  yielding  in  itself  no  useful 
return.  With  muscular  movements  pursuing  a  uniform 
course,  however,  the  mind's  share  in  the  work  can  be 
eliminated,  and  an  automatic  performance  of  those 
movements  soon  enters,  which,  with  increasing  practice, 
removes  farther  and  farther  the  limits  of  fatigue.  At  the 
same  time  the  intensity  of  automatic  labour  can  be  greatly 
increased,  so  that  not  only  can  the  movements  be 
continued  longer,  but  a  larger  numl)er  of  them  is  pos- 
sible within  a  given  unit  of  time.  An  extraordinary  ad- 
vance in  the  effectiveness  of  labour  is  the  result.'' 

All  this  makes  it.  as  it  were,  a  command  of  economy  to 
narrow  the  labour  tasks  if  we  are  to  utilize  every  kind  of 
end  wment.and  avoid  every  bootless  waste  of  strength.  In 
most  processes  of  production,  however,  we  find  decidedly 
heterogeneous  employments  united:  hand-work  and  head- 
work;  operations  demanding  great  muscular  power  along 

I  \rf.,p  ;^.  ;t..tp.;t  in  Arbeit  «.  Rhythmua,  pp.  24  ff. 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


299 


with  those  in  which  suppleness  of  the  finger,  delicacy  of 
touch,  keenness  of  sight  come  in  question;  tasks  requir- 
ing a  skill  gained  through  theory  and  practice,  and  those 
that  even  the  unpracticed  is  in  a  position  to  undertake. 
In  early  times  when  these  different  tasks  were  placed  in 
one  hand  a  great  waste  of  skilled  labour  resulted,  and  the 
productive  part  of  the  population  was  limited  to  those 
who  had  mastered  some  one  branch  of  technique  in  all  its 
parts.    By  separating  the  qualitatively  unequal  labour  ele- 
ments from  one  another,  division  of  labour  succeeds  in 
utilizing  the  weakest  as  well  as  the  strongest  workers,  and 
in  inciting  them  to  the  development  of  the  highest  special 

%  skill.  . 

Thus  division  of  labour  is,  in  the  last  analysis,  nothmg 
but  one  of  those  processes  of  adaptation  that  play  so 
great  a  part  in  the  evolutionary  historj-  of  the  whole  in- 
habited world:  adaptation  of  the  tasks  of  labour  to  the 
variety  of  human  powers,  adaptation  of  individual  powers 
to  the  tasks  to  be  performed,  continued  differentiation 
of  the  one  and  of  the  other.  Therewith  the  whole 
process  advances  out  of  the  twilight  of  instinctive  life  into 
the  bright  day  of  conscious  human  activity. 

Yet  one  fact  still  requires  special  mention.  It  is,  that 
the  personal  casual  element  in  division  of  labour  stands  out 
more  clearly  the  further  back  we  go  in  the  history  of  man- 
kind. For  this  reason  the  predominant  forms  of  division 
of  labour  in  the  early  stages  of  development  are  those  in 
which  the  individual  is  assigned  an  independent  task  that 
can  be  carried  cut  without  any  extensive  material  equip- 
ment. It  is  more  especially  the  intellectual  and  artistic 
activities  that  expand  earliest  into  vocations.  The  priest, 
the  prophet,  the  magician,  the  singer,  and  the  dancer  are 
the  first  to  gain  a  separate  position  on  account  of  special 
gifts. 


300 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


u 


If  an  unfree  system  of  labour  exists,  division  of  labour 
develops  first  within  the  slave  family;  and  it  is  with  the  as- 
sistance of  a  personal  and  moral  feature  hitherto  hardly 
heeded  that  it  comes  into  being.  Wherever  the  system  of 
supervised  labour  in  common  is  inapplicable,  the  master 
must  provide  every  unfree  worker  with  a  particular  range 
of  duties,  for  which  he  can  be  held  responsible.  He  must 
impose  on  him  a  single  definite  kmd  of  work  if  he  wishes 
to  profit  by  his  labour.  Hence  among  the  Romans  that 
almost  over-refined  specialization  of  work  in  the  familia 
urbana,*  the  careful  selection  of  slaves  according  to  bodily 
and  mental  endowment  for  the  different  agricultural  em- 
ployments;* and  among  the  serfs  of  the  Middle  Ages  the 
extreme  frequency  with  which  the  rent  paid  in  kind  was 
fixed  in  very  special  products  of  domestic  work.^"  The 
man  acting  in  the  slave  household  exclusively  as  field- 
worker  or  smith,  barber  or  scribe,  the  rent-collector  and 
the  man  whosp  sole  duty  it  was  to  supply  the  court  with 
casks  or  vesseii,  knives  or  linen  cloth,  acquired  a  special 
dexterity  wherewith,  when  the  hour  of  emancipation 
sounded,  they  entered  society  as  professional  workers. 
Thus  in  the  individual  task  rendered  necessary  by  the  slave 
economy  of  the  stage  of  exclusive  domestic  husbandry, 
and  in  the  specialization  that  it  conditions,  lay  the  seed- 
time for  the  social  division  of  labour  of  the  following  stage. 

It  is  at  a  much  later  date  that  material  cletnents  supple- 
ment the  personal  element  of  endowment  and  adaptation 

'  Compare  above,  p.  99. 

•  Compare  on  this  the  fine  remarks  of  Columella,  I,  9:  "  Sed  et 
illud  censeo,  ne  confundantur  opera  familia;,  sec  ut  omnes  omnia 
exsequantur;  nam  id  minime  conducit  agricolae,  seu  quia  nemo  suum 
proprium  aliquod  esse  opus  credit,  seu  quia,  cum  enisus  est,  non  suo 
sed  communi  officio  proficit  ideoque  labori  multum  se  substrahit;  nee 
tamen  viritim  malefactum  deprehenditur,  quod  fit  a  multis,"  etc. 

'°  A  Hit  ii  given  above,  on  page  ,04. 


DiyiSlON   OF  LABOUR. 


301 


in  originating  division  of  labour."     Formerly  it  was  men 
alone,  now  things  also  become  diflferentiated, — tools,  raw 
materials,  products.    Each  advance  in  division  of  labour 
seeks  to  adapt  itself  to  the  existing  tools  and  implements, 
or  to  provide  new  ones  for  the  particular  task.    Let  one 
but  think  of  the  innumerable  kinds  of  hammers,  tongs, 
and  chisels  used  in  the  different  branches  of  metal-  and 
wood-working!     The  division  of  labour  among  persons 
finds  its  counterpart  in  a  division  of  use  among  the  instru- 
ments of  work.    But  as  long  as  the  tool  is  merely  a  rein- 
forcement of  the  human  agent,  the  personal  adjustment 
will  dominate  the  process  of  production.    It  is  only  when 
artificial  appliances  are  introduced  which  enable  man  to 
subdue  natural  powers  to  his  service  that  the  labour  in- 
strument gains  control  over  the  labourer's  social  indi- 
viduality, as  well  as  over  his  bodily  movements.    And  now 
the  impetus  for  a  fresh  advance  along  the  path  of  division 
of  labour  can  as  readily  originate  in  a  newly-invented  im- 
plement of  labour  as  in  the  possession  or  acquisition  of  a 
particular  personal  qualification.     Most  newly-invented 
machines  require  the  attendance  of  workmen  possessing  a 
qualification  not  previously  represented  in  the  business. 
Then,  joined  to  this,  comes  the  saving  consequent  upon 
the  growing  extension  of  production,  a  feature  of  impor- 
tance from  the  standpoint  of  capital.    But  this  saving  can 
take  place  only  on  the  assumption  of  a  unification  and  con- 
centration of  demand  sufficient  to  make  the  wholesale 


"  Oh  what  follows  compare  Arbeit  u.  Rhythmus,  Chap.  IX.  How 
strongly  the  personal  element  still  predominated  in  the  division  of 
labour  in  the  town  economy  of  the  Middle  Ages  is  seen  from  the  con- 
ditions for  admission  into  a  guild.  As  far  as  the  carrying  on  of  a  trade 
came  in  question  only  persona!  requirements  were  made— ability  to  do 
the  work  with  one's  own  hand.  Material  requirements  had  to  be  met 
by  the  person  seeking  admission  only  as  a  citizen— possession  of  a 
house  and  of  arms:  and  as  a  Christian— entrance-fee  in  wax. 


302 


DiyiSlON  OF  L/1BOUR. 


production,  which  perhaps  has  long  been  technically  pos- 
sible, economically  possible  also.  Many  labour-processes 
cause  approximately  the  same  costs  whether  they  embrace 
many  or  few  pieces,  as  is  the  case,  for  example,  with  dye- 
ing, grinding,  drying,  postal  delivery.  But  if  the  method 
of  work  can  be  so  contrived  that  masses  of  the  raw  or  half- 
manufactured  material  which  are  to  be  worked  over  are 
collected  at  definite  points,  the  employment  of  hands  at 
these  points  solely  for  this  purpose  becomes  profitable, 
with,  on  the  whole,  a  considerable  saving  in  costs. 

How  far  in  such  matters  the  social  principles  of  immo- 
bility of  labour  and  of  free  competition  may  cooperate  to 
retard  or  to  advance  is  not  to  be  investigated  here.  A 
warning  is  merely  to  be  given  against  observing  and  judg- 
ing these  matters  solely  in  the  light  of  modern  industrial 
conditions.  Division  of  labour  reaches  out  far  beyond  the 
sphere  of  material  things.  It  can  show  in  recent  times, 
espcc'ally  in  the  field  of  intellectual  work,  advances  and 
results  far  surpassing  those  in  the  department  of  manu- 
facturing technique.  Indeed,  the  former  are  largely  the 
direct  cause  and  occasion  of  the  latter.  On  the  other 
hand,  in  the  whole  broad  field  lying  beyond  the  limits  of 
material  production  the  material  aids  to  labour  play  only 
an  unimportant  part.  The  personal  element  is  here  con- 
tinually decisive  for  the  further  developrrent  of  division 
of  labour;  and  we  thus  have  to  recognise  it  as  paramount 
in  the  whole  great  process  of  advancing  civiHzation. 

As  to  the  universal  originating  cause  of  division  of 
labour  more  than  this  cannot  be  said.  The  particular 
conditions  of  origin  under  which  the  various  kinds  and 
forms  make  their  appearance  will  be  briefly  discussed  in 
another  place. 

At  this  point  we  can  make  but  like  cursory  reference 
also  to  the  economic  consequences  of  division  of  labour,  al- 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


303 


though  it  is  in  this  very  particular  that  the  various  forms 
most  vddely  diverge 

Adam  Smith  knows  but  one  effect  of  division  of  labour: 
the  increased  productivity  of  labour.  He  thus  restricts 
its  influence  to  the  s,.here  of  production.  In  this  he  is 
right.  Division  of  labour  permits  the  production  of 
more  and  better  goods  with  a  given  expenditure  of  hu- 
man strength  than  was  possible  with  undivided  labour. 
Production  becomes  cheaper;  its  costs  diminish  as  far  as 
labour  is  concerned.  And  since  Smith  considers  labour 
the  true  measure  of  exchange  value,  he  can  dispense  with 
investigating  whether  under  all  circumstances  division  of 
labour  also  insures  a  cheaper  satisfaction  of  the  wants  of 
the  customer.  .    , 

However  narrow  this  conception  may  appear,  it  is  cer- 
tainly more  reasonable  than  the  unlimited  extension  g-en 
by  many  recent  economists  "  to  the  effects  of  division  of 
labour  when  they  derive  the  whole  of  our  present  com- 
m;:rcial  organization  directly  from  division  of  labour,  and 
think  to  characterize  it  sufficiently  by  caUing  it,  as  they 
commonly  do,  the  "  economy  of  divided  labour."    In  this 
they  allow  themselves  to  be  guided  by  the  opinion  that  in 
their  present  form  and  method  of  action  the  most  im- 
portant economic  phenomena  are  determined  by  division 
of  labour;  that  in  the  highly  refined  subdivision  of  trades 
occasioned  by  it  division  of  labour  is,  so  to  speak,  the 
skeleton  supporting  the  economic  organism,  while  trade 
and  commerce  represent  the  ligaments  and  muscles  that 
hold  it  together  and  enable  it  to  functionate  like  a  great 
living  body.    Commerce,  however,  they  say,  is  occasioned 
(':-ectly  by  division  of  labour;    division  of  labour  is  its 
?.  ase. 

"  Schmoller  may  again  serve  as  an  example:    Grundriss,  I.  pp.  304  ff- 


h 


III 


304 


DIVISION   OF  LABOUR. 


Therein  lies  a  great  mistake.  By  i'^^self,  division  of 
labour  does  not  create  trade.  And  iverscly,  ii  condition 
of  undivided  labour  may  easily  be  inngiiied  concurrent 
with  a  relatively  well-developed  traf    . 

Let  us  elucidate  the  last  sentence  nrsi.  \Vc  nay  recall 
that  peoples  standing  at  the  stage  of  private  domestic 
economy  can  have  a  relatively  weli-developed  exchange 
of  goods — for  profit  or  otherwise,  if  smallness  of  the 
household  membership  or  extraordinar>-  inequality  in  the 
distribution  o.  the  gifts  of  nature  give  occasion  for  it. 
Each  house  and  each  worker  produces,  in  a  condition  of 
complete  union  of  labour,  everything  that  the  natural  ad- 
vantages of  the  place  of  habitation  permit  of.  Exchange 
but  fills  up  the  gaps  of  home-produci.on;  its  objects  are 
merely  surpluses  of  otherwise  autonomous  establishments. 
The  weaker  the  different  households  are  numerically  and 
the  oftener  unfavourable  seasons— dying  of  cattle,  spoiling 
of  the  stores,  or  sickness  of  members  of  the  household — 
threaten  at  particular  points  the  satisfaction  of  their  needs, 
the  more  frequently  will  surplus  ware  be  drawn  from  an 
outside  source  in  exchange  for  the  excess  commodity  in 
one's  own  sphere. 

Thus  tlie  negro  races  of  Central  Africa  have  a  great 
number  of  weekly  markets,  which  are  usually  held  under 
special  peace  protection  in  the  midst  of  the  primieval 
forest.  Yet  among  them  there  is  scarcely  a  single  in- 
dustry carried  on  as  a  business;  and  every  species  of  di- 
vision of  labour  is  lacking,  save  the  separation  of  the 
spheres  of  work  according  to  sex.  The  same  state  of 
things  has  been  observed  in  different  parts  of  Oceania. 
Even  in  the  countries  of  Western  Europe  a  fairly 
brisk  market  trade  must  seemingly  be  assumed  for  the 
early  Middle  Ages,  notwithstanding  the  complete  absence 
of  a  developed  subdivision  of  labour. 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


305 


i 


f 

1 


On  the  other  hand,  as  aiready  frequently  remarked, 
when  the  existence  of  slavery  or  serfdom  calls  into  bemg 
households  numerically  extensive,  division  of  labour 
can  establish  itself  at  the  same  stage  of  domestic  work 
without  giving  rise  to  exchange.  On  the  estates  of 
wealthy  Romans  there  were  workmen  of  very  different 
grades  of  skill,  perhaps  even  some  who  produced  accord- 
ing to  the  principle  of  subdivision  of  work;  but  exchange 
neither  united  them  with  each  other  nor  with  the  con- 
sumers of  their  products.  The  power  holding  the-n  to- 
gether was  the  authority  of  the  head  of  the  family.  Under 
slavery  this  power  lay  in  the  ownership  of  the  persons, 
under  serfdom,  in  the  ownership  of  the  soil.  An  establish- 
ment thus  organized  is  a  permanent  community  for  produc- 
tion and  consumption.  What  it  produces  it  also  consumes. 
Indeed,  division  of  labour  really  appears  for  it  a  welcome 
means  of  avoiding  exchange. 

In  such  large  households  regular  division  of  labour  ac- 
cording to  employment  paves  the  way  for  the  succeeding 
economic  stage.  It  is  the  starting-point  lor  the  formation 
of  trades.  On  the  latter  is  baged  the  origin  of  special 
economic  life-vocations.  It  liberates  a  section  of  humanity 
from  the  soil,  on  the  possession  of  which  its  existence  had 
solely  depended.  It  furnishes  the  burghe-  s  well  as  the 
peasant  with  the  means  of  livelihood.  cialization  in- 

creases the  number  of  opportunities  for  trade,  it  supplies 
the  framework  within  which  higher  mechanical  skill  is 
developed.  And  at  first  division  of  production  has  no 
other  efTect.  Formation  of  trades,  specialization,  and 
division  of  production— all  three  together— are  indeed 
able  of  themselves  to  create  an  economy  based  upon  di- 
vided labour,  but  this  economy  is  not  at  once  national 
economy.  For,  first  of  all.  it  still  lacks  the  circulation 
of  goods. 


3o6 


DiyiSION  OF  LABOUR. 


The  whole  process  of  division  of  labour  up  to  this  point 
proceeds,  as  we  know,  by  the  method  of  workers  separat- 
ing from  the  independent  household  of  the  proprietor  of 
the  soil,  and  in  the  service  of  other  households  turning  to 
account  any  special  skill  in  the  form  of  wage-work.  They 
are,  it  is  true,  tradesmen  living  from  the  earnings  of  their 
special  trade;  but  the  raw  material  that  they  work  up  is 
owned  by  the  person  who  will  finally  consume  the  product 
in  his  own  house.  Now  there  are  certain  cases  in  which 
several  of  such  wage-workers  must  cooperate  in  one 
process  of  manufacture  if  the  commodity  is  to  be  com- 
pletely finished;  for  example,  in  preparing  bread,  the 
miller  and  the  baker;  in  making  a  garment,  the  weaver, 
the  dyer,  and  the  tailor.  In  the  exercise  of  their  technical 
skill  all  these  labourers  engaged  in  independent  trades 
are  united  with  one  another  through  the  product  which 
passes  through  their  hands  in  different  stages  of  its  manu- 
facture. The  whole  employment  of  the  one  is  to  con- 
tinue the  work  of  the  other.  Their  economic  coopera- 
tion, however,  is  effected  by  the  owner  of  the  raw  ma- 
terial, who  has  himself  generally  produced  it,  and  to  whom 
the  finished  product  returns— that  is,  by  the  consumer. 
The  means,  however,  by  which  the  same  person  attracts 
to  his  service  the  various  part-producers  is  the  wage  that 
he  pays  to  each.  This  payment,  moreover,  represents  the 
sole  commercial  act  involved  in  this  kind  of  division  of 

labour. 

In  b'lilding  a  house  one  employs  successively  on  wage 
the  mason,  the  carpenter,  the  roofer,  the  glazier,  the 
joiner,  the  locksmith,  and  the  decorators,  and  supplies 
them  with  the  material  necessary  for  their  work.  Their 
objective  point  of  union  they  all  find  in  the  new  structure; 
their  personal  point  of  union  they  possess  in  the  builder. 
He  unites  them,  so  to  speak,  into  a  temporary  community 


on  SION  OF  LABOUR. 


307 


of  production.  J-ut  their  union  is  a  loose  and  constantly 
changing  one.  No  permanent  economic  organization  of 
society  arises  fiom  it.  To-day  they  serve  this  builder,  to- 
morrow that.  Division  of  labour  makes  the  producers  so- 
cially dependent  neither  upon  one  another  nor  upon  the 
contractor.    They  remain  "  master  workmen." 

Nor  is  there  much  change  in  this  regard  when  the  wage- 
worker  rises  to  the  position  of  craftsman  and  himself  sup- 
plies the  raw  material  for  his  labour.  A  wagon,  for  in- 
stance, is  ordered  from  the  wagon-maker,  is  ironed  by  the 
smith,  and  painted  by  the  painter.  The  wagon-maker  fur- 
nishes the  wood,  the  smith  the  iron,  the  painte*-  the  paint. 
The  payment  that  they  receive  at  this  stage  is  a  remunera- 
tion for  the  labour  and  the  material  furnished  by  each. 
But  the  one  guiding  the  production  is  still,  as  ever,  the 
consumer  of  the  commodity  produced  by  divided  labour. 

Through  all  earlier  forms  of  division  of  labour,  as  one 
perceives,  there  runs  an  obvious  endeavour  to  restrict  the 
number  of  commercial  transactions  evoked  by  it  to 
those  absolutely  necessary.  In  the  midst  of  all  trades 
originatiii,  in  division  of  labour  stands  domestic  work, 
the  mother  of  them  all,  with  its  primeval  community  of 
labour  dissolving  but  slowly.  Alongside  it,  even  through- 
out the  stage  of  town  economy,  the  particular  manufac- 
turing establishments  and  professional  workmen  called 
forth  by  formation  of  trades,  specialization,  and  di- 
vision of  production  continue  to  be  firmly  and  clo«ely 
united.  From  the  customer's  house  they  receive  the  com- 
missions which  tl.ey  execute;  and  even  then  during  the 
performance  of  the  work  they  frequently  enter  into  a  tem- 
porary consuming  community}' 

In  the  stage  of  national  economy  the  consumer  with- 


"[Comp.  Chap.  IV,  remarks  on  i/iWraHO'— Ed.1 


3o8 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


iii 


draws  more  and  more  from  his  century-old  position  as 
director  and  uniter  of  divided  production.  These  duties 
now  develop  into  a  vocation.  This  vocation,  however, 
can  be  independently  exercised  by  those  alone  in  whose 
hands  the  means  of  production — or  at  least  the  circulating 
means  of  production — are  at  the  same  time  found,  that  is, 
by  the  capitalists.  Because  of  the  double  duties  that  thus 
fall  to  them — procuring  capital  and  directing  the  produc- 
tion— they  are  called  business  undertakers  or  entrepre- 
neurs. 

In  their  hands  the  division  of  labour  undergoes  a  com- 
plete transformation.  In  so  far  as  it  is  division  of  produc- 
tion each  part-producer  now  disposes  of  the  products  of 
his  own  raw  material  to  his  successor.  They  become  for 
each  a  source  of  profit,  that  is,  circulating  capital.  Thus 
arises  along  with  the  trade  in  certain  classes  of  finished 
wares,  a  series  of  exchanges  of  raw  material  or  unfinished 
goods  with  no  other  aim  than  to  unite  the  various  stages 
of  division  of  labour  with  each  other.  This  exchanging 
is  in  character  quite  unlike  the  one  between  the  consumer 
and  the  various  producers  in  succession,  which  previously 
held  exclusive  possession  of  the  field.  The  earlier  ex- 
change, at  least  for  the  one  acquiring  the  product,  is  pure 
exchange  for  use,  in  which  he  is  concerned  with  the  com- 
modity as  an  object  of  consumption.  The  later  exchange  is 
for  purchaser  and  seller  always  a  business  transaction  in 
which  the  utility  of  the  object  of  exchange  is  of  secondary, 
and  its  character  as  capital — the  profit  to  be  gaine<l  by  it — 
of  primary,  importance.  The  forms  of  division  of  labour, 
displacement  of  labour,  and  subdivision  of  work  now  aris- 
ing for  the  first  time  have  by  their  mutual  relationship  the 
effect  of  imparting  the  quality  of  capital  to  the  fixed  means 
of  product"  n  as  well.  The  subdivision  of  work  makes 
necessary  a  permanently  dependent  labouring  class.     It 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


309 


alone  gives  to  the  method  of  capitalistic  production  its 
full  expansion.  Although,  on  the  other  hand,  it  largely  de- 
stroys, in  the  department  accessible  to  it,  that  which  the 
formation  of  trades  and  specialization  had  previously  cre- 
ated— the  independence  of  the  petty  traders. 

This  new  phase  of  division  of  laL-  ,  accordingly,  raises 
commerce  to  a  height  unknown  before.  In  trade,  in  trans- 
portation, in  credit  negotiation,  in  insurance,  it  calls  forth 
numberless  other  phenomena  of  division  of  labour  under 
the  shadow  of  the  entrepreneur  system,  which  lead  in  turn 
to  fresh  commercial  services  of  a  manifold  kind.  But  in 
itself  division  of  labour  does  not  create  this  new  com- 
merce. The  impelling  and  creative  element  in  modem 
national  economy  is  not  division  of  labour,  but  business 
capital,  and  commerce  is  its  spring  of  life. 

The  point  at  which  capital  in  its  primal  form  of  money 
first  displayed  its  earning  power  was  trade.  From  there 
it  has  encroached  upon  production  by  enabling  the  trader 
to  take  the  consumer's  place  as  director  of  production. 
In  this  way  that  commission  system  first  took  its  rise  in 
the  world  of  industry  in  which  the  commission  manufac- 
turer enters  into  the  same  ouier  relationship  with  wage- 
worker  and  craftsman  that  the  father  of  the  household 
formerly  held.  To  the  one  he  advances  the  raw  material, 
from  the  other  he  purchases  the  finished  products  made 
from  self-supplied  material,  with  the  object  of  further  dis- 
posing of  them.  Where  a  productive  process  falls  into 
different  sections  he  guides  the  product  from  one  to  the 
other,  and  finally  places  it  on  the  market  as  finichcd  war". 
As  a  rule,  he  operates  merely  with  circulating  capital. 
He  has  to  do  permanently  with  fixed  capital  only  when  it 
becomes  profitable  to  pass  over  from  commission  to  fac- 
tory production.  While,  however,  in  the  provi.ice  of 
industry  trading  capital  was  merely  a  transforming  agency, 


.4 


3IO 


DiyiSlON  OF  LABOUR. 


m 

■■ 

Bl 

■  1 

n^^^K 

ii 

w^m 

ii 

^^B 

1 

HI 

1 

pvp 

in  the  departments  of  banking,  transportation,  and  in- 
surance it  has  been  creative.  These  departments  of  busi- 
ness are  really,  when  ve  consider  them  from  the  side  of 
division  of  labour,  only  ramifications  of  trade. 

Thus,  it  seems  to  us,  we  have  to  recognise  capital  as  the 
creative  influence  in  modem  national  economy,  and  division 
of  labour  as  the  medium  through  which  it  operates.  Its 
support  and  representative  is  the  entrepreneur. 

That  the  latter  has  been  able  to  utilize  this  medium  of 
division  of  labour  to  much  greater  purpose  than  the  head 
of  the  household  before  him  is  plainly  evident.  To-day  the 
entrepreneur  determines  what  we  shall  eat  and  drink,  read 
in  the  papers  and  see  at  the  theatre^  how  we  shall  lodge 
and  dress.  That  means  everything.  For  a  great  part  of 
the  goods  we  consume  the  right  of  self-determining  is 
taken  away.  And  since  uniform  production  on  a  large 
scale  is  most  advantageous  to  the  manufacturer,  there  is 
operative  in  the  sphere  of  consumption  an  increasingly 
active  uniforming  process. 

In  contrast  with  ihis  the  province  of  labour  exhibits  a 
continually  advancing  differentiation.  The  field  of  work 
of  each  individual  is  ever  growing  more  restricted.  It  is 
only  when  broken  up  on  the  basis  of  technique  into 
its  parts,  that  labouring  skill  can  furnish  workable  building 
material  for  the  task  of  the  entrepreneur.  Every  business 
establishment  is  a  union  of  various  fragmentary  activities, 
originating  through  division  of  labour,  into  an  organic 
whole.  It  unites  workmen  economically  and  technically 
dependent  into  a  permanent  community  of  production.  This 
community  of  production,  however,  luis  ceased  to  be  at  the 
same  time  a  community  of  consumption.  On  the  contrary,  its 
members  belong  to  distinct  households  which  have  been 
freed  from  all  the  burdens  of  production,  and  which  are  in 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


3" 


no  wise  connected  with  one  another  or  with  the  employer's 

household. 

In  the  formation  of  those  communities  of  production 
the  entrepreneur's  plan  of  action  varies  according  to  the 
presence  or  absence  of  the  earlier  forms  of  division  of 
labour  in  the  manufacture  in  which  he  wishes  to  place  his 

capital. 

In  the  first  case  he  absorbs  into  his  undertaking  all  the 
independent  branches  of  business  that  up  to  that  time  had 
to  do  with  the  wares  to  be  produced.  He  specializes  their 
workers  and  permanently  allots  to  them  the  performance, 
side  by  side,  of  the  part-tasks  required  by  the  business.  As 
an  example,  take  the  furniture-factory,  in  which  joiners, 
turners,  wood-carvers,  upholsterers,  glaziers,  painters, 
and  finishers   are  incorporated  in   a   common   productive 

process. 

In  the  second  case  he  first  organises  the  work  according 
to  the  principles  of  subdivision  of  labour,  in  the  branch  of 
production  concerned,  and  furnishes  the  business  with  a 
comprehensive  outfit  of  machinery. 

In  both  instances  there  are  in  the  fully-equipped  busi- 
ness, in  addition  to  the  entrepreneur,  only  subject  part- 
workmen  whom  the  technical  arrarpement  of  the  work 
renders  dependent.  In  the  one  case  they  have  been  inde- 
pendent craftsmen,  and  the  task  of  the  entrepreneur  con- 
sists in  combining  them  into  one  industrial  imit;  in  the 
other  the  business  unit  already  exists,  and  its  component 
parts  are  to  be  sought.  Very  soon  the  employees  of 
either  origin  are  no  longer  to  be  distinguished  from  one 
another. 

Early  handicraft  had  as  a  basis  a  few  workmen  of 
similar  training  who,  even  though  at  different  stages  (ap- 
prentices, journeymen,  master  workmen),  worked  side  by 
side.    The  qualifications  of  the  groups  so  composed  bear, 


312 


DIVISION  OF  LABOUR. 


from  handicraft  to  handicraft,  no  resemblance  to  each 
other.  It  is  impossible  for  a  transfer  to  be  made  from  one 
species  of  employment  to  another;  for  instance,  the  smith 
cannot  be  wheelwright.  The  law  recognises  this  by  the 
sharp  dividing  lines  it  dravvs  between  them. 

Modern  industrial  activity  unites  workers  difTering  in 
skill  and  strength  into  cooperative  harmony  within  the 
undertaking.     Their  grouping  for  business  purposes  fol- 
lows the  same  principles  of  organization  from  branch  to 
branch  of  production:  there  are  no  sharp  boundary  lines 
between  industries.    A  distinction  of  vocations  hardly  oc- 
curs among  entrepreneurs,  though  to  a  certain  extent  it 
exists  among  the  workmen.    As  far  as  the  entrepreneur's 
functions  are  concerned,  it  is  almost  a  matter  of  indiffer- 
ence whether  he  manages  a  street-railway,  iron-works, 
or  a  weaving  factory.    Among  the  employees,  on  the  con- 
trary, in  consequence  of  the  continued  subdivision  of  work, 
there  are  now  numerous  specialists  who  are  required  in 
very  different  branches  of  production.    The  locksmith,  the 
metal-turner,  the  moulder,  the  planer,  and  the  cutter  ap- 
pear in  all  branches  of  well-ad\     iced  metal  industry,  in 
each  special  department  of  machine-construction,  in  rail- 
way workshops,  etc.     Fireman  and  engineer  are  neces- 
sary in  every  large  establishment,  whether  it  produces 
cotton  thread  or  illustrated  papers.     Joiners,  tinsmiths, 
coopers  can  be  incorporated  into  or  attached  to  under- 
takings of  the  most  varied  type,  and  office-clerks,  pattern- 
artists,  and  engineers  have  a  similarly  varied  usefulness. 
To  these  is  to  be  added  the  mass  of  unskilled  labour  that 
is  swallowed  up   by  the  large  manufac curing  establish- 
ments.   For  many  entrepreneurs  almost  the  sole  remain- 
ing question  is  how  to  apportion  and  arrange  these  labour 
elements  in  such  a  way  that  they  may  cooperate  as  a  me- 
chanical unit. 


^' 


DiyiSION  OF  LABOUR. 


;i3 


This  cursory  survey  has  taught  us  how  at  different 
epochs  division  of  labour  has  exerted  an  influence  upon 
the  industry  of  peoples,  and  upon  the  existence  of  in- 
dividuals, varying  according  to  the  organizing  principles 
dtDminating  the  different  economic  stages. 

During  the  stage  of  independent  household  economy 
there  prevails  either  union  of  labour  in  the  hands  of  the 
father  and  mother  of  the  family,  or  division  of  labour  de- 
veloped upon  the  basis  of  slavery  or  serfdom.  In  both 
cases  the  household  represents  a  permanent  community 
of  production  and  consumption.  The  principle  holds 
good:  who  works  with  me  shall  eat  with  me. 

In  the  stage  of  town  economy  specialization  and  division 
of  production  predominate.  The  part-producers  are  per- 
sonally free ;  but  the  consumer  of  their  wares,  who  unites 
them  under  favourable  circumstances  into  temporary  com- 
munities of  production,  determines  in  the  main  the  nature 
and  time  of  their  production.  During  the  period  of  com- 
mon production  he  often  provides  them  with  their  keep. 

During  the  stage  of  developed  national  economy  the 
entrepreneur  controls  the  production  of  wares  under  di- 
vision of  labour.  The  part-producers  are  personally  free 
labourers.  They  are  united  by  the  employer  into  per- 
manent communities  of  production.  All  other  community 
of  living  is  excluded;  and  if  perchance  on  occasion  of  a 
business  jubilee  the  entrepreneur  gives  a  dinner  to  his 
workmen,  the  newspapers  report  how  he  ate  and  drank 
with  them  at  the  same  table,  and  consider  it  a  particular 
condescension  on  his  part. 

These  are  different  economic  worlds,  separated  from 
one  another  by  a  deep  gulf.  If  there  breathes  in  the  prim- 
itive union  of  labour  of  the  home,  and.  in  part,  in  the 
eariier  division  of  labour  as  well,  a  warm  breath  of  social 
fellowship,  there  surge  through  the  modern  division  of 


i 


3»4 


DiyiSION  OF  LABOUR. 


labour  the  cold,  cutting  winds  of  calculation,  contract,  and 
greed  of  gain.     If  the  older  division  of  labour  was  the 
caryatid  of  economic  independence,  the  modern  is  ever 
forcing  large  masses  ir  o  a  condition  of  dependence.    The 
pressure  of  capital  is  making  men's  occupations  increas- 
ingly dissimilar;  it  is  making  the  men,  as  consumers,  ever 
more  alike.    If  in  the  olden  time  the  individual's  portion 
of  goods  was  shaped  by  his  own  hands  and  head,  and  was, 
so  to  say,  a  component  part  of  his  being  that  had  taken 
objective  form,  the  consumption  goods  surrounding  us 
to-day  are  the  work  of  many  hands  and  heads.     As  to 
the  workers,  we  are  supremely  indiflf erent ;  and  as  to  their 
work,  when  once  we  have  paid  its  last  possessor  the  mar- 
ket price,  we  for  the  most  part  reck  but  little.     In  the 
narrow  circle  of  a  life-vocation  the  mind  becomes  nar- 
rowed, frequently  to  obtuseness.    In  our  sphere  of  activ- 
ity we  have  lost  in  fulness  of  life,  and  the  worker  has  not 
the  old  joy  in  his  work.  Are  we  sufficiently  compensated 
for  these  losses  by  the  variety  of  articles  which  it  is  ours 
to  use  because  thousands  of  hands  labour  for  us,  because 
thousands  of  heads  think  for  us?    Or  has  division  of  labour 
merely  made  life  richer  in  pleasures,  but  poorer  m  real 
joy? 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ORGANIZATION  OF  WORK  AND  THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL 

CLASSES. 

The  economic  processes  involved  in  the  organization 
of  work  are  processes  of  adaptation.  Whether  they  fall 
under  the  head  of  union  of  labour,  of  labour  in  common, 
or  of  division  of  labour/  they  all  originate  in  the  effort  to 
remove  the  disproportion  perchance  existing  between  the 
labour  to  be  performed  at  a  given  moment  and  the  powers 
of  the  individual  labourers,  and  to  bring  them  into  agree- 
ment with  each  other.  They  must  accordingly  react  upon 
the  individual  in  compelling  him  to  adapt,  to  accommo- 
date himself  mentally  and  physically  to  a  definite  work. 
In  this  adaptation  certain  resistances  on  the  part  of  human 
nature  are  first  to  be  overcome.  Once  vanquished,  how- 
ever, this  negative  element  is,  usually  by  virtue  of  con- 
tinued practice,  replaced  by  a  positive  one.    The  individual 

'  It  will  assist  to  an  understanding  of  the  present  and  the  two  pre- 
ceding chapters  if  we  present  here  the  various  kinds  and  varieties  of 
labour  organization  in  tabular  survey.  [Comp.  Chapters  VII  and 
VIII.— Edu] 


A.  Union  of  Labour. 

B.  Labour  in  Common. 


I 


C.  Diviiion  of  Labour.  • 


I.  Fraternal  labour. 
3.  Labour  aggregation. 
3.  Joint  labour. 

1.  Formation  of  trades. 

2.  Specialization. 

3.  Division  of  production. 

4.  Subdivision  of  work. 

5.  Displacement  of  labour. 


(a)  Simple  aggre- 
gation. 

{t)  Concatenation 
of  labour. 


3«5 


3i6 


ORGANIZATION  OF  H^ORK  AND 


I 


^HlfO 

■  1 

^^K,p 

mi  d. 

i^^E^  '-^ 

gains  insight  into  the  special  character  of  his  work;  he 
develops  a  particular  dexterity  for  it;  his  mental  powers 
are  directed  continuously  towards  the  same  goal,  and 
therefore  expand  in  a  definite  direction;  in  short,  his 
adaptation  to  the  work  becomes  a  part  of  his  being  and 
distinguishes  him  from  other  individuals. 

If,  then,  the  class  of  work  to  which  the  workman  de- 
votes himself  be  of  such  a  nature  as  to  accentuate  the 
special  character  of  the  individual  man  in  society,  the 
question  naturally  arises,  how  fai  such  individual  charac- 
teristics arising  from  work  react  upon  the  social  life  of  the 
species.  More  specifically  stated,  the  question  would  be: 
Is  there  a  definite  organization  of  society  corresponding 
to  a  definite  organization  of  work;  and  what  is  the  nature 
of  the  influence  exerted  by  the  one  upon  the  other? 

The  question  is  not  so  simple  as  it  may  perlKips  at  first 
sight  appear.  Nothin/,  for  instance,  seems  easier  than  to 
trace  back  the  caste  system  of  India  to  the  hereditary 
character  of  occupations,  and  accordingly  to  seek  its 
origin  in  division  of  labour.  But  we  know  positively  that 
the  lower  and  the  higher  castes  have  different  origins; 
and  many  indications  favour  the  view  that  place  of  resi- 
dence and  possts^ior  of  property  have  cooperated  in  the 
genesis  of  that  hi  -^ecitar-  str  aification  of  society.  Finally 
we  see  that  the  --^^^f^r^zii^i  na  nrt-  of  the  caste  lay  in  purity 
of  hiooc  and  <  --oil  •rla.!onshi])s.  Difference  in  caste 
excindt  !  eatrair  n  TEiJincn  .-specially,  although  it  does 
nor  ■'crr  t<  ni;  e  i-.^^-nTr-  a  similarity  of  occupation. 
Ai;  nis  ^v«s  j^.o«i  ir^fiTSL  for  the  assumption  that  the 
sepamtim  ai-cnrriinir  t-  ermlovments  was  only  a  result  of 
the  fn^5??wi  iTm-  -a^-^  wftidi  had  ori.^inated  in  differences 
in  rz^t.-  A  srniiar  course  of  development  can  be  shown 
for  r-e  ssiciai  crosses  c  th*  Middle  Ages. 

-^  ~e  -^rTTSiSr    "sir  o::   pp.  ;:.4  f?.  regarding  tribal   indus- 


tries  «3vt  at  the 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCI/tL  CLASSES. 


317 


In  considering  tlie  relations  between  economic  activity 
and  society  generally,  it  is  never  to  be  forgotten  that  they 
are  reciprocal,  and  that  with  them  we  can  seldom  deter- 
mine with  certainty  action  and  reaction.  Just  as  a 
particular  kind  of  organization  of  work,  when  it  lays 
hold  of  the  individual  for  life,  furnishes  specially  dif- 
ferentiated men  to  society,  so  society  on  the  other  hand 
has  from  its  stratifications  and  its  individuals  to  provide 
the  plastic  material  used  by  organization  of  work.  Cer- 
tain strata  of  society  will  favour  distinct  forms  of  labour 
in  common  and  division  of  labour,  others  will  place  ob- 
stacles in  the  way  of  their  operation.  Slavery,  for  in- 
stance, encourages  the  concatenation  of  labour;  the  pres- 
ence of  a  numerous  class  of  unpropertied  wage-workers 
promotes  subdivision  of  work.  But  those  social  influences 
alone  are  not  able  to  produce  these  results;  others  of  a 
technical  and  a  general  civilizing  nature  must  be  assumed, 
for  instance,  with  subdivided  labour,  a  highly  specialized 
equipment  of  instruments  of  production. 

All  these  relationships  are  thus  of  an  extraordinarily  in- 
tricate nature  and  demand  the  most  circumspect  treat- 
ment. As  a  rule  we  can  tell  what  features  in  the  economic 
and  social  world  are  found  side  by  side,  but  it  is  seldom 
that  we  can  determine  how  they  are  mutually  connected. 
In  attempting,  then,  to  discover  the  social  bearings  of 
organization  of  work  in  its  various  forms,  we  enter  a  field 
as  yet  little  investigated,  in  which  each  step  aside  from 
the  path  leads  into  an  impenetrable  thicket  of  confused 
ideas. 

At  first  the  oldest  system  of  organization  of  work, 
union  of  labour,  seems  to  have  been  socially  unimportant. 
Its  earliest  appearance  reaches  back  into  the  pre-economic 
period  where  the  individual  Jias  to  perform  all  the  labour 
necessary  to  his  maintenance.    It  is  to  be  found  more  ex- 


3i8 


ORGANIZATION  OF  IVORK  AND 


tensively,  then,  in  the  earlier  stages  of  independent  do- 
mestic economy.  The  tools  are  simple  and  few,  each 
must  serve  the  most  varied  purposes,  and  everyone  must 
be  acquainted  with  their  use.  From  work  of  such  a  type 
the  impulse  to  a  division  of  society,  to  a  formation  of  re- 
lations of  social  dependence,  manifestly  cannot  come. 
Society,  it  appears,  must  consist  of  a  uniform  mass  of  indi- 
vidual households;  and  such  is  its  actual  constitution  as 
long  as  collective  ownership  of  the  soil  prevails.  Within 
the  individual  households,  on  the  other  hand,  a  separation 
of  male  and  female  work  can  take  place.  But  this  is  not 
transferred  to  society;  each  household  is  in  this  respect 
an  exact  replica  of  the  other.  If  social  differences  never- 
theless exist,  their  cause  is  to  be  sought  in  other  con- 
ditions. 

Union  of  labour  maintains  this  [socially  trivial]  charac- 
ter in  the  higher  stages  of  development  even  up  to  the 
highest.  To-day  it  is  met  nith  almost  exclusively  in  the 
humbler  spheres  of  economic  life  and  in  the  lower  strata 
of  society.  Here  it  arises  in  most  cases  from  the  striving 
for  independence;  it  is  the  support,  the  stay,  and  the  com- 
fort of  the  common  folk.  Indeed,  it  can  appear  here  even 
as  recoil  from  an  excessive  division  of  labour.'  If  it  were 
the  sole  active  factor  in  the  economic  life  of  a  people,  it 
would  lead  to  a  society  of  lifeless  uniformity  and  render 
a  successful  struggle  from  the  lower  to  the  higher  im- 
possible. 

With  labour  in  common  it  is  different.  To  be  sure,  in  its 
loosest  form  of  fraternal  labou»-  it  exists  between  equals 
only  temporarily,  and  therefore  can  have  scarcely  any 
effect  upon  the  organization  of  society.  At  the  most,  it 
can  l)ut  suggest  it.     The  two  forms  of  labour  aggrega- 

*  Comp.  our  remarks  in  the  Handwort.  d.  Staatswiss.,  IV,  p.  377. 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES. 


319 


tion,  on  the  contrary,  become  a  means  to  the  formation 
of  special  groups;  they  create  and  maintain  relations  of 
social  dependence  or,  at  least,  assure  their  continuance 
where  they  have  been  developed  from  other  causes.  The 
same  can  be  said,  although  not  with  equal  definiteness,  of 
many  forms  of  union  of  labour.  In  both  cases  cooperation 
amongst  a  plurality  of  persons  depends  upon  the  extent 
of  the  work  to  be  performed  as  compared  with  the  im- 
perfect nature  of  the  tools;  and  where  those  tasks  are  of 
a  permanent  nature  or,  at  least,  are  frequently  repeated 
in  any  one  department  of  economic  labour — for  example, 
in  agriculture — they  require  for  their  stability  permanent 
social  j^roupings  secured  by  some  controlling  power. 

On  this  rests,  in  large  part,  the  long  continuance  of 
slavery  and  serfdom,  although  it  cannot  be  said  that  the 
necessity  for  union  of  labour  originally  created  these  in- 
stitutions. Nevertheless  wherever  property  in  man  and 
hereditary  dependence  of  the  labouring  population  have 
existed,  we  notice  in  the  early  stages  that  master  and  slave 
are  distinguished  but  slightly  from  one  another;  that  they 
perform  their  work  together;  that  the  dependent  class 
is,  in  numbers,  hardly  stronger,  .ndeed  often  weaker,  than 
the  ruling  one.  But  in  the  course  of  time  this  is  changed; 
the  enslaved  part  of  the  population  becomes  more  numer- 
ous, though  less  through  natural  internal  increase  than 
artificial  augmentation  from  without  by  means  of  wars 
of  conquest,  men-stealing,  the  slave  trade,  and  misuse  of 
power  against  weaker  freemen.  At  the  same  time  the 
class  of  propertied  frc  -nen  is  ever  more  sharply  distin- 
guished from  that  of  ti  unfree;  labour  becomes  in  the 
eyes  of  the  former  a  disgrace,  while  for  the  latter  it  de- 
velops into  a  burden  of  constantly  growing  oppressive- 
ness. A  deep  gulf  rends  society,  and  there  is  no  means 
of  bridging   it   other   than  release   from   the   condition 


ii'ii 


320 


ORGANIZATION  OF  U^ORK  AND 


of  compulsory  labour.  Frequently  even  this  does  not 
suffice,  as  is  shown,  for  instance,  by  the  sharp  distinction 
between  freemen  and  freed  men  among  the  Romans. 

The  necessity  for  this  graded  progress  lies  in  the  tech- 
nical conditions  affecting  the  developed  forms  of  labour 
in  common.  The  natural  consequence  of  the  imperfect 
character  of  the  implements  *  is  that  larger  tasks  can  be 
accomplished  only  through  the  application  of  combined 
human  labour  on  a  large  scale.  Each  advance  of  the 
household  economy  thus  necessarily  presupposes  an  in- 
crease in  the  number  of  its  unfree  workers.  Each  rise  in 
the  standard  of  life  of  the  ruling  class  involves  a  waste  of 
human  material,  which,  according  to  our  conceptions,  is 
monstrous.  To  realize  an  effective  union  of  labour  this 
material  must  be  organized  and  disciplined. 

The  necessity  of  working  slaves  in  gangs  has  from  time 
immemorial  been  deduced  from  their  unreliability  and  lazi- 
ness which  compelled  the  strict  supervision  of  their  work. 
It  is  indeed  true  that  these  features  everywhere  character- 
ize servitude.  But  not  it  alone;  they  are  rather  phenom- 
ena incident  to  a  half-developed  culture  in  general,  which 
at  such  a  stage  may  be  found  even  among  free  people. 
Moreover  the  slave-holder  applies  the  system  of  division 
of  labour  along  with  labour  in  common  whenever  this 
can  result  in  such  an  assignment  of  definite  duties  to  the 
individual  workman  that  he  can  be  made  responsible  for 
the  performance  of  them."  But  in  the  sphere  of  produc- 
tion the  allotment  of  particular  tasks  to  the  individual  is 
usually  either  impossible  or  inadvisable,  because  profitless. 


'Comp.  also  A.  Loria,  Dit  Sklaventuirtkschaft  im  modem.  Amtrika 
u.  im  turopiiisck.  AUertum,  in  Ztschr.  f.  Sozial.  u.  WirthRchaftsgesch., 
IV,  pp.  68fl. 

'This  indeed  takes  place  especially  with  housework  and  personal 
•ervicei.    See  above,  pp.  98,  99,  299,  300. 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES. 


321 


Thus  at  this  stage  we  see  labour  in  common  assuming 
extensive  proportions  and  becoming  by  far  the  most 
potent  organizing  principle  of  unfree  labour. 

David  Hume  long  since  remarked  '  that  slavery  neces- 
sitated a  strict  military  discipline;  and  our  investigations 
are  corroborative  of  this  observation. 

In  early  Egypt  "  each  of  the  great  administrative  offices 
possessed  its  own  craftsmen  and  workmen.  These  were 
divided  into  bands.  We  even  meet  with  such  a  company 
on  the  estates  of  the  more  prominent  men  of  the  ancient 
empire,  and  notice  how,  led  by  their  ensign,  they  draw 
up  on  parade  before  the  lord  of  the  estate.  The  galley- 
slaves  of  every  larger  ship  likewise  form  a  company,  and 
even  the  demons  that  nightly  propel  the  ship  of  the  sun 
through  the  lower  world  bear  this  name.  The  craftsmen 
of  the  temple  and  of  the  necropolis  are  similarly  organized. 
The  Egyptian  magistrate  cannot  think  of  these  people  of 
lower  rank  otherwise  than  collectively;  the  individual 
workman  exists  for  him  no  more  than  the  individual  sol- 
dier exists  for  our  high  army  officers.  Just  as  these  free 
or  half-f.ee  workers  always  appear  in  companies,  so  the 
slaves  of  the  temple  and  the  necropolis  and  the  unfree 
peasants  of  the  manors  are  duly  organized  in  military 
fashion  and  regarded  as  a  part  of  the  army."  ^ 

The  large  Roman  slave  estates  exhibit  like  phe- 
nomena. On  the  rural  estates  the  unfree  workers  are 
divided  into  groups  according  to  their  occupation;  each 
group  falls  again  into  trains  of  not  more  than  ten  men 
under  a  "  driver  " ;  the  villicus  is  commander-in-chief  over 
all.  Their  day's  work  is  performed  with  military  discip- 
line; at  night  they  are  lodged  in  barracks.  In  the 
wealthiest  homes  the  urban  'imily  likewise  exhibits  such 


*  Essays,  p.  252. 

'  Erman.  Aegypten  und  agyptisckes 


.ibcn  im  Altertum,  pp.  180-186. 


322 


ORGANIZATION  OF  IVORK  AND 


ordered  gp'oups;  in  the  Imperial  household  the  separate 
slave  groups  are  expressly  designated  colleges  or  cor- 
porations.* 

We  see  here  how  the  need  for  labour  in  common  led 
to  permanent  organizations  among  the  unfree;  and  this 
need  was  met  in  the  same  way  by  the  agriculturalist  of 
later  Roman  times,  by  the  manorial  constitution  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  by  the  more  modem  servile  tenure.  In 
each  of  these  the  labourers  necessary  for  the  large  rural 
estates  were  united  into  distinct  corporate  groups  at- 
tached to  the  soil,  in  order  that  they  might  always  be 
ready  for  seed-time  and  for  harvest.  One  can  really  say 
that  manorial  servitude,  attachment  to  the  soil,  and  per- 
sonal subjection  "  owed  their  ascendancy  to  the  necessity 
of  labour  in  common,  and  that  their  great  extension  and 
long  duration  were  conditioned  by  this  necessity. 

A  reaction  of  labour  in  common  upon  the  organization 
of  society  is  thus  established  beyond  doubt,  giving  it  not 
merely  a  peculiar  socio-judicial  impress,  but  also  deeply 
influencing  the  mental  disposition  of  the  associated  work- 
ers. One  of  the  keenest  observers  of  agrarian  conditions 
in  North  Germany'**  found  as  a  prominent  trait  in  the 
character  of  the  peasants  "  that  they  cling  very  closely  to 

•Thus  mention  is  made  of  collegia  {corpora)  kctkariorum,  taber- 
Hoclariorum,  cocorum,  pragustatorum,  decuriones  or  prapositi  cvbiculario- 
rum,  velariorum,  fricliniariorum,  structorum,  ministratorum,  balntariorum, 
UHctorum,  etc.  On  all  this  comp.  Marquardt,  PrivatUben  der  Romer,  pp. 
144  ff.,  154.  The  remarks  in  text  do  not  contradict  what  was  said  above 
on  pp.  98,  9Q  resarding  division  of  labour  in  the  slave  family  of  the 
Romans.  This  sprang  from  the  necessity  of  having  for  each  piece  ol 
work  required  by  the  household  a  responsible  person — not  from  the 
knowledge  of  the  greater  productivity  of  divided  work — while  labour 
in  common  had  its  basis  in  technical  considerations. 

'  ilorigkeit,   SchollenpAichtigkeit.  Leibeigenschaft. 

"  Christian  Garve,  Utber  d.  Charakter  d.  Bauern  u.  ihr  Verhattnis  gegtn 
d.  Cutskerrn  u.  gegen  d.  Rtgierung  (Breslau,  1786),  pp.  14  ff. 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES. 


323 


each  other."  They  live  much  more  sociably  among  them- 
selves than  the  ordinary  citizens  of  the  towns.  They  see 
each  other  daily  at  each  piece  of  demesne  work, in  summer 
in  the  field,  in  winter  in  the  barn  and  in  the  spinning-room. 
Like  soldiers,  they  constitute  a  corps,  and  like  them  gain 
an  esprit  de  corps.  The  same  may  be  said  of  all  unfree 
conditions;  uniformity  and  the  disciplining  of  work  create 
uniform  herd-like  masses  which  become  more  dull  and  in- 
dolent the  more  hopeless  their  condition. 

This  explains  the  small  productiveness  of  their  labour, 
which  in  turn  leads  to  inhumanly  harsh  treatment,  re- 
ducing the  labourers  to  the  level  of  the  animal.  Genera- 
tion after  generation  of  like  labour  perpetuates  the  same 
way  of  thinking,  the  same  feelings  and  sensations  towards 
the  oppressors.  The  ruling  race  is  now  markedly  distinct, 
both  intellectually  and  physically,  from  the  subject  one, 
just  as  the  vigorous  tree  in  the  forest  stands  out  from  the 
weakling.  But  in  this  evolutionary  process  causes  and 
consequences  are  confused  as  in  a  tangled  skein;  one 
perceives  only  a  labyrinth  of  economic  and  social  factors, 
acting  and  reacting,  and  nowhere  a  thread  to  guide  with 
certainty  the  investigating  eye.  There  are  close  relation- 
ships existing  between  the  two  spheres;  that  is  all  that 
we  can  with  some  measure  of  assurance  determine. 

The  problem  offered  by  the  third  primal  form  of  or- 
ganization of  labour,  division  of  labour,  would  seem  rela- 
tively much  easier  of  solution.  Moreover,  each  indi- 
vidual in  the  world  of  to-day  has  a  certain  interest  in  it, 
inasmuch  as  he  is  personally  affected  by  it.  For  every- 
one, if  he  does  not  wish  to  be  a  useless  member  of  society, 
has  to  accommodate  himself  to  a  particular  task;  and  the 
more  completely  he  succeeds  in  this,  the  more  diversified 
do  men  themselves  become  in  their  every  action  and 
thought. 


384  ORG/INIZATION  OF  U^ORK  j4ND 

The  German  census  of  occupations  of  1895  recorded  in 
all  10,298  distinct  trade  designations.  Now  one  may  as- 
sume that  different  names  are  current  for  many  trades  in 
different  parts  of  the  country,  and  that  a  deduction  is  ac- 
cordingly to  be  made  for  double  counts.  On  the  other 
hand,  one  must  also  remember  that  very  different  kinds 
of  work,  especially  in  the  public  service  and  the  liberal 
professions,  are  designated  by  the  same  name,  and  that 
the  numerous  individual  tasks  which  have  arisen  within 
the  separate  industrial  undertakings  through  division  of 
work  and  which  have  been  transferred  to  special  work- 
men, can  be  but  imperfectly  taken  into  account  in  the  re- 
turns. Thus  the  census  figures  should  rather  be  increased 
than  reduced.  We  have  thus  in  round  numbers  10,000 
kinds  of  human  activity,  each  of  which  can  become  in  our 
modern  society  a  life-work,  and  subject  the  whole  person- 
ality to  its  sway. 

New  special  trades,  moreover,  are  being  formed  con- 
tinually."   Each  new  process  of  production,  each  advance 

"  From  1882  to  1895  the  number  of  trade  designations  in  the  Ger- 
man census  of  occupations  has  been  increased  by  4"9.    The  returns 

were  as  follows: 

Aceordias  to  the  Ceniui 
For  the  CtaM  of  Occupations.  ol  OccupmUont  lor 

iWa.  •'95* 

A.  Agriculture,    gardening,    cattle-raising,    forestry, 

fisheries   •••••     35a  465 

B.  Mining    and    quarrying    industry,    and    building 

trades    ^,661  5.406 

C.  Trade  and  commerce •••  L^is  2,216 

D.  Domestic  services  and  wagework  of  varying  kind.       75  8i 

E.  Military,   court,  civil,  and  ecclesiastical  service, 

liberal  professions ^>^T^  *'°79 

Total 6.179  10.398 

How  far  this  growth  in  figures  is  to  be  traced  to  an  actual  increase  m 
trades,  how  far  to  greater  exactness  in  statistical  census  work,  cannot 
be  determined.  A  part  of  the  diflTerence,  however,  is  certainly  to  be 
attributed  to  increasing  division  of  labour. 


t 
f 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES. 


3*5 


465 

5.406 
2,216 

82 
2,079 


of  technique  and  science,  is  subjected  to  the  universal  di- 
vision of  labour.  Thinking  and  feeling  men  are  thus 
forced  into  the  restricted  field  of  trade  interests  of  the 
narrowest  and  pettiest  sort.  The  time  foreseen  by  Fer- 
guson, when  even  thinking  would  become  a  special  busi- 
ness, has  long  since  been  reached.'*  The  scope  of  uni- 
versal human  interests  grows  narrower  the  greater  the 
divergence  of  the  special  interests  of  the  numerous  spheres 
in  life  from  one  another,  and  the  greater  the  severity  of 
the  struggle  for  existence. 

The  differences  among  men  due  to  nature  and  culture 
without  doubt  assist  this  divergence  in  the  most  varied 
spheres  of  life;  yet,  in  our  opinion,  this  is  true  to  a  much 
smaller  extent  than  is  frequently  assumed.  Of  course,  as 
everyone  knows,  a  jockey  must  differ  from  a  carrier,  a 
brewer  from  a  tailor,  a  dancer  from  a  singer,  a  poet  from 
a  merchant,  if  he  is  to  be  competent  for  his  vocation.  But 
what  natural  talents  cause  one  man  to  appear  destined  to 
be  an  inspector  of  diseased  meat,  another  a  bookbinder, 
and  a  third  a  chiropodist,  hosiery  Vianufacturer,  or  tobac- 
conist, will  likely  be  as  difficult  to  fix  as  to  determine 
beforehand  the  success  of  a  particular  individual  in  any 
given  liberal  profession. 

Although,  then,  many  classes  of  occupations  are 
adapted  to  bringa  particular  talent  to  the  highest  develop- 
ment, with  many  others  the  presence  of  such  a  talent  will 
he  of  no  perceptible  importance.  All,  however,  through 
continuous  practice  and  use,  will  produce  a  certain 
differentiation  of  the  men  devoting  themselves  to  them; 

"  Most  notoriously  in  politics,  where  the  majority  of  men  procure 
their  ideas  ready  made  from  some  newspaper  editorial.  But  also  to  no 
inconsiderable  degree  in  scientific  circles,  where  on  this  account  the 
last  is  always  right;  for  example,  the  reviewer  of  a  book  over  the  au- 
thor. 


■-,Wi 


3a6 


ORGANIZATION  OF  WORK  AND 


.    I 


certain  organs  will  become  enfeebled  through  lack  of  use, 
while  others,  through  constant  exercise,  will  be  developed 
to  greater  perfection;  according  to  his  task  the  individual 
will  be  attuned  physically,  intellectually,  and  morally,  to 
a  definite  key;  through  his  occupation  he  will  be  given  a 
particular  impress  which  will  often  be  even  externally  dis- 
cernible. This  we  all  recognise  when  we  come  into  con- 
tact with  strangers  and  involuntarily  classify  them  to  our- 
selves according  to  callings. 

With  this  personal  differentiation,  however,  the  eco- 
nomic graduation  is  transferred  also  to  society  at  large. 
Similar  occupations  and  views  of  life,  similar  economic 
position  and  social  habit  lead  to  a  new  distribution  of 
social  groups.  They  produce  classes  based  on  occupation 
and  a  community  of  interests  which  dominate  them  even 
in  their  most  minute  social  ramifications,  and  are  strong 
enough  to  cover  up  inherited  diflferences  in  position 
due  to  birth,  or  to  reduce  them  to  insignificance.  We 
have  even  seen  how  these  new  social  aggregations 
reach  out  beyond  the  political  boundaries,  and  how  the 
social  interests  and  feelings  of  kinship  resting  on  di- 
vision into  trades  overtop  those  of  nationality  based  upon 
similarity  of  blood. 

Under  these  circumstances  we  may  raise  the  question, 
which  recent  biology  has  brought  into  close  connection: 
whether,  and  to  what  extent,  in  a  society  with  free  choice 
of  occupation,  the  personal  variations  developed  through 
division  of  labour  are  hereditary,  just  as  under  the  system 
of  castes  and  of  classes  according  to  birth  such  peculiar- 
ities are  transmissible.  In  this  it  is  not  merely  a  question 
of  natural  capacities  which  may  be  utilized  in  one's  occu- 
pation and  in  which  the  possibility  of  hereditary  transmis- 
sion— though  not  more — is  readily  admitted.  It  is  a 
question  rather  of  tlic  whole  physic.il  and  mental  aptitude 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES. 


327 


for  a  vocation,  of  the  skill  gained  through  accommodating 
oneself  to  a  circumscribed  task,  of  the  intellectual  plane 
consequent  upon  such  work,  of  the  conception  of  life,  and 
the  direction  of  the  mind  resulting  from  the  character  of 
one's  vocation. 

From  the  latter  point  of  view,  ever  since  Shakespeare's 
"  Winter's  Tale,"  the  problem  has  frequently  been  treated 
in  literature.  Generally  this  has  been  done  by  making 
educational  influences  that  counteract  upon  the  character 
and  social  position  of  the  parents  determine  events. 
Views  as  to  the  issue  havt  greatly  changed  in  the  course 
of  the  last  century.  It  would  certainly  be  a  profitable 
undertaking  for  a  literary  historian  to  take  up  this  prob- 
lem of  education  and  heredity,  and  investigate  more 
closely  the  dependence  of  literature  upon  the  spirit  of  the 
times  and  upon  the  position  in  life  of  the  writers.*^  While 
Lindau  in  Countess  Lea  makes  the  daughter  of  the 
usurer  develop,  in  spite  of  the  paternal  education,  into  a 
paragon  of  nobleness,  in  a  story  by  Arsene  Houssaye  (Les 
trots  Duchesses),  of  three  children  interchanged  directly 
after  birth,  the  son  of  the  peasant  woman  remains  peasant 
in  understanding  and  in  way  of  thinking,  although  edu- 
cated as  a  prince;  the  daughter  of  the  frivolous  actress 
becomes  a  courtesan,  and  the  daughter  of  the  duchess, 
even  in  humble  surroundings,  displays  the  native  eleva- 
tion of  her  character. 

The  question  has  also  been  touched  upon  in  numerous 
ways  in  more  serious  literature.  But  a  short  time  ago 
W.  H.  Riehl,  in  his  Culturgeschichtliche  Characterk'dpfe, 
drew  a  contrast  between  the  "  peasant  youngsters  with 
limited  capabilities  "  who  had  graduated  from  the  gym- 

"The  latest  treatment  of  this  subject  is  to  be  found  in  Ludwig 
Ganghofer's  tale,  Der  Klosttrj'dger  (Stuttgart,  1893).  It  is  exception- 
ally healthy  and  subtle. 


"    IF 

Si 


I; 


1:11 


iil 


Hit 


3a8 


ORGANIZATION  OF  tyORK  AND 


nasium  with  highest  standing  and  the  "  intellectually 
highly  trained  sons  of  cultured  parents,"  between  whom, 
class  for  class,  there  arises  an  insurmountable  wall.  The 
former,  he  believes,  would  develop  at  the  university  into 
mediocre  students,  whom  the  "  cultured  son  of  cultured 
parents,"  if  he  went  to  the  university  at  all,  would  soon 
overtake.  Finally  the  former  peasant  youth  becomes  "  a 
very  mediocre  though  clerically  efficient  civil  servant." 
What  becomes  of  the  son  of  the  cultured  parents,  "  who 
has  already  been  favoured  by  the  manifold  educational  in- 
terests of  his  parents'  home,"  we  are,  unhappily,  not  in- 
formed. 

The  first  to  discuss  the  subject  with  a  claim  of  strict 
scientific  treatment,^*  which,  to  be  sure,  is  not  made  in 
the  above  case,  was  Professor  Gustav  Schmoller,  who,  in 
a  very  confident  manner,  rendered  his  decision  that  "  the 
adaptation  of  individuals  to  various  activities,  increased 
through  heredity  during  centuries  and  thousands  of  years, 
has  produced  men  of  ever  more  individual  and  diverse 
types."  All  higher  social  organizations,  it  is  claimed, 
rest  upon  continued  differentiation  produced  by  division 
of  labour.  "  The  castes,  the  aristocracies  of  priests,  of 
warriors,  of  traders,  the  guild  system,  the  whole  constitu- 
tion of  labour  to-day  are  but  forms  diflfering  according  to 
the  times,  which  division  of  labour  and  differentiation 

"Schmoller  has  objected  to  this  expression  in  his  review  of  my 
book  in  Jhrb.  f.  Gesetzg.  Verw.  und  Volksw.,  XVII  (1893).  pp.  303  ff 
He  desires  to  have  his  remarks  regarded  as  but  "  a  kind  of  essay  in 
philosophical  history."  I  can  perceive  in  this  characterization  no  re- 
pugnancy to  the  expression  used  by  myself.  Nor  can  I  discover  that 
the  further  remarks  of  Schmoller  in  the  paper  cited  have  furnished 
proof  that  I  have  misunderstood  him  in  essential  points.  I  believe, 
therefore,  that  I  am  acting  most  correctly  in  allowing  the  following 
remarks  to  appear  again  word  for  word  as  they  stood  in  the  first  edi- 
tion, and  in  directing  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  Schmoller's  re- 
marks on  the  same  in  the  article  indicated. 


I'i 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES. 


329 


have  imprinted  upon  society;  and  each  individual  has  ar- 
rived at  his  peculiar  function  not  merely  through  indi- 
vidual adroitness  and  fate,  but  also  through  his  physical 
and  mental  disposition,  his  nerves,  and  his  muscles,  which 
rest  upon  hereditary  tendencies  and  are  determined  by  a 
causal  chain  of  many  generations.  The  differences  in  social 
rank  and  property,  in  social  esteem,  and  in  income  are  only  a 
secondary  consequence  of  social  differentiation."  ^' 

One  will  perhaps  expect  that  the  proof  for  these  sur- 
prising sentences  has  been  attempted  with  the  help  of 
biology.  But,  aside  from  cursory  reference  to  biological 
analogies,  that  path  is  avoided.  Yet  it  would  certainly 
have  been  useful  to  pursue  it  further,  because  it  must 
have  led  inevitably  to  a  point  where  the  conception  of 
heredity  must  needs  have  been  defined  and  its  sphere 
marked  off  from  that  of  imitation  and  education." 

On  this  account  we  also  will  have  to  avoid  this  path, 
and  enter  upon  an  examination  of  the  elaborate  historical 
and  ethnographical  material  that  Schmoller  adduces  for 

his  assertions. 

Such  historical  proofs  are  of  a  nature  peculiar  to  them- 
selves. To  the  eye  of  one  gazing  backwards  things  get 
shifted  from  their  proper  place.  Cause  and  effect  appear 
equally  near  in  point  of  time.    One  finds  oneself  in  a  posi- 

"  Comp.  Schmoller's  articles  on  the  division  of  labour  in  his  Jhrb., 
XIII,  pp.  1003-1074;  XIV,  pp.  45-105;  and  a  short  summary  of  his 
conclusions  in  the  Preuss.  Jhrb.,  LXIX,  p.  464.  [See  further  his 
Grundriss,  pp.  395-411— Ed.]. 

"  Such  an  attempt,  though  indeed  with  but  meagre  results,  is  to  be 
found  in  Felix,  Entwickelungsgesch.  d.  Eigenlhums,  I,  pp.  130  flf.  Among 
the  more  recent  biologists  this  point  in  the  problem  of  heredity  i» 
really  no  longer  a  matter  of  controversy;  especially  Weismann  (The 
Germ-plasm,  Eng.  ed.,  London.  1893)  has  decidedly  contested  the  trans- 
missibility  of  acquired  characteristics.  Comp.  also  Galton,  A  Theory 
of  Heredity,  in  Journal  of  Anthropolog.  Institute,  V,  pp.  329  ff.;  James, 
The  Principles  of  Psychology,  II,  678. 


33° 


ORG/INIZATIOS  OF  IVORK  AND 


tion  similar  to  that  of  the  man  who  looks  away  into  ti:« 
distance  and  sees  a  church  steeple  that  really  rises  far 
behind  a  group  of  houses  apparently  standing  directly 
over  the  nearest  building. 

After  a  similar  fashion,  we  fear,  SchmoUer  in  the  critical 
instances  of  his  comprehensive  investigations  has  viewed 
the  causal  relationship  of  the  historical  processes  in  an  in- 
verted succession  as  regards  reality.  So  far  as  th'  ^e  are 
occurrences  that  do  not  reach  back  into  epochs  be- 
yond the  range  of  historical  investigation,  such  as  the 
origin  of  castes,  of  the  priesthood,  of  the  oldest  nobility, 
we  would  venture  to  believe  that  one  might  unhesitatingly 
reverse  his  surprising  conclusion  and  say:  the  diversity  of 
possession  and  of  income  is  not  the  result  of  division  of 
labour,  but  its  chief  cause. 

For  the  past,  in  so  far  as  it  lies  open  to  our  eyes,  this 
can  be  demonstrated  with  absolute  certainty.  Inequality  in 
the  extent  and  tenure  of  landed  property  forms  among  the 
ancient  Greeks  and  Romans,  and  even  among  our  own 
people  from  the  early  Middle  Ages  onward,  the  basis  of 
class  organization.  The  noble,  the  peasant  class,  the  class 
of  villeins  and  serfs  are  at  first  mere  classes  based  on  prop- 
erty; it  is  only  after  a  considerable  time  that  they  de- 
velop into  a  species  of  classes  based  on  occupation." 
When  in  the  Middle  Ages  along  with  the  rise  of  the  crafts- 
man class  the  definite  formation  of  trades  sets  in,  it  pro- 
ceeds again  from  distribution  of  property.  The  demesne 
servants,  the  landless  villeins  who  h^ve  learned  an  indus- 
trial art,  begin  to  turn  their  industrial  skill  to  independent 
account.  The  industrial  process  followed  must  adapt  itself 
to  their  poverty;  it  is  pure  wage-work,  in  which  th"  work- 

"The  presence  of  the  unpropertied  noble  in  the  service  of  others 
(Dienstadef)  is  a  proof,  not  against,  but  for,  this  conception.  It 
would  be  inconceivable  that  the  landed  noble  had  not  preceded  him. 


'H  1 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES. 


33» 


man  receives  the  raw  material  from  the  customer.  Only 
later  do  we  have  a  real  division  of  production  between 
agriculturalist  and  craftsman.  The  latter  acquires  a  busi- 
ness capital  of  his  own.  But  how  trifling  this  is,  is  best 
indicated  by  the  circumstance  that,  as  a  rule,  the  crafts- 
man works  only  on  ordered  piece-work,  and  that  the 
whole  industrial  process  for  liansforming  the  raw  into  the 
finished  product  Hes  usually  in  one  hand."  The  industrial 
undertakings  were  exclusively  small  undertakings.  Where 
the  great  extent  of  the  sphere  of  production  of  a  handi- 
craft called  for  an  increased  supply  of  ccpital,  men  did  not 
turn  to  production  on  a  large  scale  with  subdivisi'  n  of 
work,  but  to  specialization  which  limited  the  demanc  for 
capital  and  kept  the  business  small. 

As  one  observes,  each  step  taken  by  mediava!  division 
of  labour  in  industry  was  conditioned  by  the  possession  of 
wealth.  It  is  the  same  with  trade.  The  tradinp^  c  isi  of 
the  Middle  Ages  is  derived  from  the  class  of  ur  m  land- 
owners, who  had  become,  through  the  introduction  of 
rents  on  houses  and  the  practice  of  rent-purchase>,  pos- 
sessors of  movable  capital.  It  is  from  this  class  c'  •  )ck- 
holders  and  tradesmen  that  the  present  manufacturing 
class  has  sprung  since  the  seventeenth  century.    T)  rough 

"The  longer  the  duration  of  the  process  of  production  th-        aller 
the  business  capital  that  the  single  producer  requires,  but  th.    gr -ater 
the  mass  of  labour  which  the  completed  product  contains      In     he 
Middle  Ages,  to  cite  a  very  familiar  example,  the  shoemaker  w..      re- 
quently  tanner  as  well.    The  whole  process  of  industrial  elaboration 
from  the  raw  hide  to  the  finished  footwear  thus  lay  in  one  hand.    Ai 
suniing  new  that  the  tanning  of  the  hide  required  'lalf  ihe  time  tha- 
was  necessary  to  its  transformation  into  shoewarc,  a  shoenr  kcr  d' 
siring  to  carry  on  tanning  alone  would  have  required  thrte  limes 
much  business  capital  as  the  tanner  who  at  the  same  time  mad,  sho 
But  if  he  wished  merely  to  make  up  into  shoes  leather  already  tanned, 
his  business  capital  must  amount  to  one  and  a  Naif  times  the  former, 
together  with  w.iges  and  profits. 


..tJ 


!  I' 


33J  ORGANIZATION  OF  IVORK  AND 

the  fertilizing  of  industry  with  their  capital,  the  two  new 
forms  of  division  of  labour— subdivision  and  displacement 
of  labour— arise,  and  the  division  of  production  for  the 
first  time  realizes  its  full  efficiency.     Half-manufactured 
products    now   wander    in    masses    from   workshop    to 
workshop;  in  each  place  they  become  capital,  in  each 
they   yield   a   return;     from    one   department    of    pro- 
duction to  another  fresh  outlays  in  interest  and  other 
charges  are  added,  and  through  them  profits  on  cap;- 
tal  are  made.*»     Subdivision  of  labour  presupposes   a 
class  of  non-propertied  wage-workers.    This  class  comes 
from  that  section  of  the     aftsmen  who,  through  the  capi- 
talistic character  assume*,  ay  division  of  labour,  have  be- 
come  incapable   of  competing,  and    from  the   landless 
peasant  population. 

In  industry,  indeed,  the  dependence  of  division  of  labour 
upon  possession  of  property  becomes  especially  manifest. 
In  the  Middle  Ages  each  advance  of  industrial  division  of 
labour  augmented  the  number  of  urban  "  livelihoods," 
because  it  diminished  the  business  capital;  at  the  present 
time  the  progress  of  division  of  labour  diminishes  the  num- 
ber of  independent  existences  since  it  increases  either  the 
fixed  or  the  business  capital,  or  both.    In  the  Middle  Ages 
the  effort  was  made  to  keep  each  industrial  product  as 
long  as  possible  in  one  establishment  in  order  to  embody 
in  it  as  much  labour  as  was  feasible;   nowadays,  by  di- 
vision of  work,  the  business  capital  is  carried  with  the 
utmost  rapidity  through  the  separate  stages  of  production 
in  order  to  make  the  relation  between  interest  expended 
and  profit  realized  the  most  favourable  possible.     In  the 

"The  connection  of  capital  with  division  of  labour  has  been  pre- 
sented in  a  masterly  manner  by  Rodbertus  (Aus  d.  lilttf.  ^<"*'f  *■  "• 
pp.  255  flf.);  but  in  this  he  has  not  adequately  distinguished  the  dif- 
ferent kinds  of  division  of  labour. 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES. 


333 


Middle  Ages  dearth  of  capital  led  to  specialization;  in  our 
time  abundance  of  capital  imnels  to  subdivision  of  work 
and  displacement  of  labour. 

Thus  from  the  varied  distribution  of  property  have  the 
general  features  of  our  organization  of  society  according 
to  occupation  been  developed  historically;  and  on  this 
foundation,  which  our  present  industrial  organization  is 
ever  strengthening  and  solidifying,  they  continue  to  rest. 
The  latter  is  explained  very  simply  from  the  following  cir- 
cumstance: I.  Every  vocation  under  our  industrial  or- 
ganization yields  an  income;  and  only  the  propertied  per- 
son is  in  a  situation  to  seek  out  for  himself  the  more  lucra- 
tive positions  within  the  universal  organization  of  labour, 
while  the  unpropertied  person  must  be  content  with  the 
inferior  positions.""  2.  Property  itself,  by  virtue  of  its  cap- 
italistic nature,  furnishes  an  income  to  its  owner,  even 
without  work  on  his  part,  and  transmits  itself  from  gen- 
eration to  generation  with  this  capability.  In  so  far  as 
our  propertied  classes  are  also  social  classes  according 
to  occupation,  they  are  not  such  because  their  cccupation 
creates  property,  but  rather  because  property  determines 
the  selection  of  a  vocation,  and  because  as  a  rule  the  in- 
come that  the  calling  yields  is  graded  much  the  same  way 
as  the  property  on  which  the  vocation  is  founded. 

True,  there  is  no  novelty  in  this  statement.  Each 
of  us  acts  conformably  to  this  view.  Daily  experience 
readily  suggests  it;  and  scientific  political  economy 
has  always  recognised  it.  The  whole  wage-theory  il'.elf 
rests  on  the  assumption  that  the  son  of  the  workman  can 
become  nothing  else  than  a  workman.    This  is  a  conse- 

••  This  means,  then.  "  that  those  whom  poverty  drives  to  seek  a 
profitable  vocation  are  compelled  by  their  very  poverty  to  abandon 
that  vocation."  Lotmar,  Di*  FrrihtH  d.  BtrufswaU  (Leipzig.  1898). 
p.  27- 


liiil; 


!  I'lii: 


■if 


334 


ORGylNIZylTION  OF  fVORK  AND 


quence  of  his  poverty,  not  of  hereditary  adaptation  to  his 
trade.  Must  one  then  really  prove  now  for  the  first 
time  that  occupations  whose  inception  and  conduct  re- 
quire capital,  or  whose  acquisition  demands  large  outlays, 
are  as  good  as  closed  to  those  without  capital?  The 
much-boasted  "  freedom  of  enterprise  "  thus  exists  only 
within  very  narrow  limits.  In  very  exceptional  cases 
these  indeed  are  now  and  then  transgressed;  but  as  a  rule 
it  is  not  the  particular  vocation,  but  rather  the  general 
vocational  class  ^*  to  which  the  individual  is  to  belong  in 
society  that  is  indicated  for  each  person  by  the  wealth  of 
the  paternal  house.  The  "  social  rank  "  that  in  popular 
estimation  is  enjoyed  by  a  particular  class,  however,  can 
hardly  be  maintained  without  corresponding  financial 
equipment — a  proof  that  it  also  is  not  a  secondary  conse- 
quence of  social  differentiation  (resting  upon  division  of 
labour),  but  essentially  a  child  of  the  rational  union  of 
wealth  and  vocation. 

No  matter  how  many  vocational  classes  may  be  dis- 
tinguished in  society,  occupations  of  very  diverse  charac- 
ter will  still  be  represented  in  each,  and  between  these 
callings  a  rontinuous  exchange  of  labour  will  take  place. 
This  exchange  extends  as  far  as  the  classes  of  work  de- 
mand approximately  the  same  equipment  of  wealth,  and 
as  far.  therefore,  as  they  stand  in  the  same  "  social  rank  "; 
one  might  also  say  that  it  extends  as  far  as  people  marry 
among  each  other,  or  regularly  associate  with  one  an- 
other, or  as  there  is  approximately  the  same  plane  of  cul- 
ture. All  these  things  stand  together  in  a  mutual  rela- 
tionship.   It  is  an  every-day  occurrence  for  a  high  public 

"  On  this  concept,  in  which  we  attempted  to  express  the  reciprocally 
conditioned  existence  of  property  and  vocation  lonR  before  we  were 
ac(iuainted  with  Schmoller's  wot';,  compare  my  Btvolktnmg  d.  Kantons 
Bastl-Sladt,  p.  70. 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL   CLASSES. 


335 


I 
I 


1- 


official  to  destine  his  son  for  agriculture  in  order,  later  on, 
to  purchase  him  an  estate,  for  the  son  of  a  large  land- 
holder or  manufacturer  to  enter  upon  an  academic  career, 
for  the  son  of  a  clergyman  to  become  a  civil  engineer, 
the  son  of  the  engineer  a  physician,  the  son  of  the  physi- 
cian a  merchant,  the  son  of  the  merchant  a  lawyer  or  an 
architect.  Just  as  easy  and  frequent  is  the  transition 
from  peasant  to  schoolmaster  or  to  brewer,  from  baker  to 
watchmaker,  from  blacksmith  to  bookbinder,  from  miner 
to  factory-hand,  from  farm-hand  to  station-hand  or  coach- 
man, etc.  We  all  look  upon  these  transitions,  in  spite  of 
the  great  diflferences  in  labour  skill,  as  socially  proper  and 
industrially  unobjectionable,  although  there  can  hardly  be 
men  "  differentiated  "  more  widely  through  division  of 
labour  than  a  statesman  and  a  farmer,  a  manufacturer  and 
a  professor,  a  merchant  and  an  architect,  and  so  forth. 
When  the  son  of  the  manufacturer  in  turn  becomes 
manufacturer,  and  the  son  of  the  peasant  again  a  peasant, 
we  know  that  in  many  cases  the  financial  means  once 
consonant  with  this  vocation  have  dictated  the  occupation 
without  regard  to  the  fitness  or  unfitness  of  the  individual 
for  the  role  thrust  upon  him. 

This  glance  at  practical  life  must  restrain  us  from  con- 
ceiving in  too  narrow  a  sense  Schmoller's  theory  oi  .h 
hereditary  transmission  of  personal  differentiation  conse- 
quent upon  division  of  labour.  That  the  son  of  the  shoe- 
maker by  virtue  of  inherited  adaptation  should  be  in  a 
better  position  to  produce  shoes  than,  let  us  say,  picture- 
frames;  that  the  clergytnan's  son.  tliough  his  father  had 
been  taken  from  him  on  the  <lay  i)f  his  birth,  will,  of  all 
classes  of  occupation,  exhil)it  the  greater  natural  aptitude 
for  the  clerical  calling,  cannot  possibly  be  meant  by  that 
theory,  even  if  in  the  last-mentioned  case  the  forefathers 
of  the  clergyman  during  the  previous  two  centuries  had 


^  ntf^ 


it 


336 


ORGANIZATION  OF  (VORK  AND 


handed  down  the  spiritual  office  to  each  other  from  gen- 
eration to  generation.  For  if  we  hold  strictly  to  the  bi- 
ological idea  the  adaptation  to  occupation  would  neces- 
sarily increase  from  age  to  age,  and  reveal  itself  in 
continually  improving  performance  of  duties.  It  will, 
however,  hardly  be  seriously  maintained  that  the  numer- 
ous clerical  families  of  Protestant  Germany,  who  are  in 
the  position  just  described,  furnish  to-day  relatively  better 
pulpit  speakers  and  more  efficient  pastors  than  in  the 
seventeenth  century. 

In  the  domain  of  the  guild  handicraft  of  our  towns,  in 
consequence  of  the  jealous  exclusiveness  of  the  different 
trades,  the  positions  of  master-craftsmen,  with  but  few  ex- 
ceptions, have  been  actually  passed  down  from  father  to 
son  from  the  sixteenth  to  the  eighteenth  century.  The 
technique,  however,  not  only  has  not  improved,  but  has 
lamentably  degenerated,  and  now  languishes,  as  Schmol- 
ler  himself  m  an  earlier  treatise  has  shown.**  Far  from 
augmenting  the  technical  acquisitions  of  their  fathers,  the 
sons  have  not  even  been  able  to  maintain  the  standard  of 
professional  aptitude  reached  by  them. 

We  must  therefore  look  upon  the  new  theory,  if  we 
would  not  be  unjust  to  it,  as  referring  to  the  inheritance 
of  bodily  and  intellectual  characteristics  by  the  members  of 
social  classes  grouped  according  to  occupation.  But  these 
classes  arc,  as  a  rule,  likewise  based  upon  property  and 
income,  since  the  standard  of  their  life,  both  material  and 
intellectual,  is  conditioned  by  property  and  income.  Ac- 
cordingly one  must  demand  of  the  originator  of  the  the- 
ory to  distinguish  between  the  consequence  of  the  charac- 
ter of  sustenance  and  education  rendered  possible  for  each 
class  by  the  possession  of  wealth,  and  the  result  of  heredi- 

"Znr  Gfsck.  d.  deutsch.  Kkingeucrhr  im  19   Jhdt..  pp.  14.  667  AF. 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES. 


337 


i 

-i 
■i 

I 


% 


I 


tary  adaptation  to  occupation.  If  such  a  distinction  of 
the  probable  and  possible  causes  is  not  undertaken,  or  if 
without  examination  there  is  ascribed  to  division  of  labour 
that  which  can  be  traced  back  with  greater  probability  to 
the  apportionment  of  wealth,  the  whole  theory  must  be 
content  in  its  undeniable  weakness  in  "  historical  proof  " 
to  be  treated  as  an  inexact  Darwinian  analogy,  as  a  thesis 
advanced  without  proof. 

That  within  a  whole  social  class  of  this  kind  a  trans- 
mission of  the  "  bodily  and  intellectual  constitution,"  of 
the  "  nerves  and  muscles  "  takes  place  from  one  genera- 
tion to  another  no  one  has  as  yet  doubted.  One  may  in- 
deed term  this  heredity,  but  in  this  he  must  not  overlook 
that  each  fresh  generation  must  be  raised  through  theo- 
retical and  practical  education  to  the  inte'lectual  and 
moral  level  of  the  parents.  Though  in  this  the  elements 
of  culture  "  fly  to "  them,  to  use  Riehl's  expressive 
phrase,^'  though  the  example  of  their  surroundings  in- 
cites them  to  imitation,  though  much  is  appropriated 
without  trouble  which  under  other  conditions  must  first  be 
learned  with  effort,  it  is  still  a  question  of  the  acquired, 
not  of  the  innate.  This  holds  to  a  certain  extent  even  of 
the  bodily  constitution — the  "nerves  and  muscles" — so 
far  as  it  rests  upon  the  character  of  sustenance  and  edu- 
cation.'^ 

Elements  of  adaptation  to  a  vocation  can  certainly  be 
transferred  by  the  indicated  paths  of  "  unconscious  ab- 

"  AnHiegtn. 

"Schiiffle,  Bau  u.  Lthen  d.  sot.  Korpers  (i.  Aufl.),  II,  p.  aoi,  desig- 
nates that  the  physical  side  of  pedagogy.  He  says:  "The  physical 
education  of  each  new  generation  and  its  schooling  in  the  external 
graces  of  the  parents  or  ancestors  cotnes  as  an  immense  additional  task 
to  the  procreative  activity  of  the  sexes.  ...  In  this  second  act 
physical  adaptations  are  obtained  that  were  unknown  to  the  parents 
themselves." 


* 


li 


'  ii 


338 


ORGANIZATION  OF  WORK  AND 


sorption  "  and  imitation,  just  as  well  as  other  elements 
of  education.  But  this  process  is  fundamentally  different 
from  inheritance  in  the  biological  sense.'^"  That  which  in 
this  sense  is  said  to  be  hereditary  must  make  its  appear- 
ance even  when  the  offspring  are  completely  removed  at 
the  moment  of  birth  from  the  influence  of  their  pro- 
genitors. 

We  know  not  whether  there  are  people  who  consider 
the  physical  and  intellectual  peculiarities  constituting 
the  plane  of  culture  of  our  six  or  eight  vocational  classes 
in  society  as  transmissable  in  the  sense  that  they  must  ap- 
pear among  the  descendants  of  each  class  even  when 
brought  up  within  another  class.  It  is  only  individual  in- 
stances of  this  kind  that  practical  life  is  ever  presenting; 
and  as  yet  no  one  has  taken  the  trouble  to  collect  them. 
They  are  generally  cases  of  children  of  the  humbler  classes 
who  are  brought  up  or  formally  adopted  by  members  of  a 
higher  class.  There  will  scarcely  be  anyone  bold  enough 
to  maintain  that  these  persons,  artificially  united  to  social 
groups  of  higher  rank,  are  later  on  distinguishable  from 
the  members  of  these  groups  by  birth  by  reason  of  less 
business  ability  or  of  a  lower  plane  of  culture. 

A  further  series  of  observations  of  this  nature  is  offered 
by  the  instances  in  which  descendants  of  one  class  have  by 
their  own  energy  raised  themselves  into  a  higher  class. 
Everyone  knows  what  difticulties  the  era  of  capitalistic 
production  opposes  to  such  an  attempt,  and  frequently 
only  too  successfully.  Everyone,  too,  can  readily  call  up 
the  picture  of  the  "  upstart "  who,  with  all  the  technical 

"This  latter  is  the  real  question  with  Schmollcr,  as  he  plainly  indi- 
cates in  Preuss.  Jhrb..  Vol.  69.  p.  464-  The  sociological  conception  of 
inheritance  which  Schaffle  has  constructed  in  works  cited  (II.  pp. 
308  ff.)  is  not  treated  l>y  Schtnolltr,  tiiongli  many  of  his  remarks  re- 
call it. 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES. 


339 


ability  he  shows  for  his  trade,  is  defeated  in  his  effort  to 
reach  the  intellectual  and  moral  level  of  his  new  class. 
This  serves  again  to  illustrate  the  truth  that  the  adapta- 
tion to  an  occupation  enjoined  by  division  of  labour — the 
prime  condition  of  business  success — is  accomplished  by 
each  individually,  and  without  too  much  difficulty.  But 
the  moral  and  intellectual  adaptation  demanded  by  the 
plane  of  culture  of  the  class  ripens  slowly  even  amid 
favourable  surroundings,  and  comes  to  full  maturity  only 
in  the  second  or  third  generation. 

A  strict  proof  of  the  fallacy  of  SchmoUer's  theory 
of  heredity  cannot  be  adduced;  but  the  proofs  hitherto 
advanced  in  favour  of  its  accuracy  fall  equally  short  of 
conclusiveness.  Before  venturing  to  dogmatize  one 
would  perhaps  have  to  pass  in  review  the  great  men  of  a 
nation  and  note  the  vocations  of  their  parents,  and  the 
number  who  have  issued  from  classes  of  humble  occupa- 
tion. At  the  same  t-me  one  would  need  to  determine  for 
the  dififerent  classes  the  degree  of  probability  of  their 
members  attaining  a  prominent  position  in  which  they 
alone  could  display  high  ability.  Finally  one  would 
have  to  ascertain  what  relation  the  number  of  promi- 
nent men  who  have  actually  come  forth  from  any  given 
class  of  tradesmen  bears  to  the  number  obtained  by  the 
calculation  of  probabilities.  It  does  not  need  to  be  demon- 
strated that  for  such  an  investigation  all  the  data  are  lack- 
ing. 

But  it  may  be  maintained  that  the  new  theory  contra- 
dicts the  belief  of  modern  civilized  people  based,  as  it  is, 
upon  the  observation  of  many  generations. 

How  often  the  complaint  is  made  that  so  much  talent 
pines  under  the  weight  of  adversity?  If  to  this  dictum 
we  oppose  the  other  that  real  talent  will  always  find  a 
way,  wc  may  indeed  offer  a  formula  to  (latter  the  egoism 


i1^: 


.: 


i       i 


340 


ORG/tNlZATION  OF  fVORK  AND 


of  successful  competitors,  though  in  reality  it  meets  all 
too  rarely  with  confirmation. 

Our  whole  socio-juridical  development  since  the  French 
Revolution  is  based  on  the  assumption  that  admission  to 
every  free  calling  and  to  all  public  offices,  which  latter, 
after  all,  we  still  regard  as  tJie  pinnacle  of  class  divisions, 
shall  be  free  to  all.  This  principle  of  free  choice  of  voca- 
tion, whose  recognition  has  been  gained  only  after  severe 
struggles,  would  be  a  great  mistake,  and  every  endeavour 
towards  its  realization  lost  labour,  if  beside  the  inequality 
in  distribution  of  wealth  the  hereditability  of  vocational 
aptitudes  likewise  stood  in  the  way  of  its  establishment. 

Even  many  of  our  oldest  academic  arrangements  must, 
in  the  light  of  this  theory,   necessarily   appear  funda- 
mentally erroneous.    To  what  a  high  degree  the  costli- 
ness of  preparation  narrows  admission  to  the  favoured 
positions  of  the  business  world  is  well  known.   From  time 
immemorial,  however,  a  great  peril  to  the  efficiency  of 
the  official  and  the  scholastic  class  has  likewise  been  per- 
ceived; and  an  effort  has  been  made  to  obviate  this  danger 
through  scholarships,  free  board,  remission  of  fees,  and 
similar  arrangements  for  rendering  study  possible  to  those 
without  means.    The  practical  results  of  these  arrange- 
ments may  be  a  subject  of  dispute.    Yet  in  judging  them 
it  is  essential  to  remember  that  advancement  in  the  voca- 
tion enjoying  popular  esteem  depends  not  only  upon  per- 
sonal integrity,  but  also  upon  the  social  education  of  the 
individual,  upon  his  ability  to  make  his  own  strength  felt; 
that  in  this  imperfect  world  even  the  capable  man  who  too 
modestly  holds  back  may  all  too  easily  be  outdistanced  by 
the  mediocre  man  who  is  boldly  self-assertive;  that  he 
who  seeks  to  climb  the  social  ladder  from  the  lower  rungs 
will  find  it  much  more  difficult  to  reach  the  top  than  the 
man  who  starts  halfway  up.  The  German  language  has  an 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES.  341 

expression  for  denoting  distinction  in  a  line  of  business 
which  happily  characterizes  the  importance  of  the  personal 
element  in  the  achievement  of  success.  It  is  sich  hervortlnin 
[literally,  to  do  oneself  forwardj.  Thus  it  may  indeed  be 
that  the  student  sons  of  the  peasant  in  Riehl's  story  failed 
to  distinguish  themselves  in  their  vocations  because  they 
lacked  capacity.  It  is  none  the  less  true  that  many  of  them 
missed  success  because  they  did  not  know  how  to  "  do 
themselves  forward  "  in  the  right  place,  how  to  bring  their 
personality  into  play.  , 

In  every  social  grouping  in  which  the  occupation  exerts 
an  influence  there  is  generally  formed  within  the  different 
classes  a  community  of  feeling  that  turns  instinctively 
against  the  intruder,  and  in  spite  of  all  his  talent  frequently 
dooms  him  to  failure;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  it  supports 
and  carries  along  weaklings  belonging  by  birth  to  the 
group  in  question.    Thus,  as  concerns  advancement  in  the 
public  service,  which  still  bears  in  a  preeminent  degree  the 
sign  manual  of  a  class  characterized  purely  by  its  voca- 
tion, personal  and  family  connections  often  play,  along 
with  financial  standing,  a  decisive  part.     Where   these 
become  a  cloak  for  nepotism  they  can  indeed  impress  upon 
it  the  characteristics  of  an  hereditary  class.    In  the  broad 
realm  of  labour,  organized  according  to  occupation  and 
extending  beyond  it,  property  will  indeed  remain,  as  long 
as  the  present  economic  system  lasts,  the  prime  cause  of 
social  class-formation.     And  just  such  an  accessory  im- 
portance as  fell  in  the  stages  of  unfree  labour  to  com- 
munity of  labour,  will  here  attach  to  division  of  labour.  If 
the  employment  is  inherited  it  is  not  because  the  adapta- 
tion to  the  vocation    has  been  inherited,  but  because  the 
property  is  transmitted  by  which  membership  in  it  is  con- 
ditioned. 

The   above   theory   of  heredity   consequently   bears. 


:ilr 


mi  i  ;i  ■ 


m 


'"  "1 


f 


342  ORGANIZATION  OF  f^ORK  AND 

though  certainly  unknown  to  its  originator,  the  cheerless 
lineaments  of  a  social  philosophy  of  beati  poss^dentes     It 
calls  to  the  man  of  humble  birth  who   hinks  he  has  m  hmi 
the  power  to  occupy  a  higher  position  in  life:      Abandon 
all  hope-  your  physical  and  intellectual  constitution,  your 
nerves,  your  muscles,  the  causal  chain  of  many  genera- 
tions, hold  you  fast  to  the  ground.    For  centuries  your 
ancestors  have  been  serfs;  yoar  father  and  grandfather 
were  day-labourers,  and  you  are  destined  for  a  l>ke  posi- 
tion "    We  need  not  recite  how  the  consequences  of  this 
new  theory  do  violence  to  our  moral  consciousness,  to 
our  ideal  of  social  justice. 

In  the  ^tate  of  improved  thesis  in  which  it  at  present 
stands,  the  theory,  in  our  opinion,  falls  to  the  ground  from 
the  very  fact  that,  as  is  frequently  enough  observed,  in  a 
single  generation  the  whole  road  from  zero  to  the  highest 
point  of  modem  culture,  from  the  lowest  to  the  highest 
stage  of  division  of  labour,  from  the  foot  to  the  summit  of 
the  social  ladder  is  traversed,  and  vice  versa.    One  must 
indeed  wonder  that  such  a  theory  could  originate  among 
a  people  who  count  among  their  intellectual  heroes  a 
Luther  the  son  of  a  miner,  a  Kant  the  son  of  a  saddler,  a 
Fichte  the  son  of  a  poor  village  weaver,  a  Winckelmann 
the  son  of  a  cobbler,  a  Gauss  the  son  of  a  gardener,  not  to 

mention  many  others."  ,  .u     1    j 

There  is  an  old  anecdote  of  a  cardinal  whose  father  had 

-Valerius  Maximus  wrote  a  chapter  (III,  4).  de  humililoconatis, 
aui  clari  evaserunt,  that  begins  thus:  "  Sxpe  even.t  ut  et  hum.l.  loco 
Tati  ad  summam  dignitatem  consurgant  et  generosiss.marum  'naagmum 
foetus  in  aliquod  revoluti  dedecus  acceptam  a  majonbus  lucem  in 
tenebras  convertant."-In  the  most  recent  presentat.on  of  h.s  theory, 
which  shows  considerable  modification,  (Grundnss.  pp.  396ff..) 
SchmoUer  rests  the  fact  "that  talents  and  great  "^e", ^"^^  f^^")  ^' 
classes  of  a  generally  hishb  cultured  -rtety '  upon  thf  peculiar  .« 
fiuences  of  variation."    But  this  explains  nothmg. 


THE  FORMATION  OF  SOCIAL  CLASSES. 


343 


-A 


tended  swine,  and  a  French  ambassador  filled  with  the 
pride  of  noble  birth.  In  a  difficult  negotiation  in  which 
the  cardinal  represented  the  interests  of  the  church  with 
adroitness  and  tenacity  the  ambassador  was  so  carried 
away  that  he  taunted  the  other  with  his  origin.  The 
cardinal  answered:  "  It  is  true  that  my  father  tended 
swine;  but  if  your  father  had  done  so,  you  would  be  tend- 
ing them  too." 

This  little  story  has  perhaps  expressed  better  than  a 
long  disquisition  could  have  done  what  the  observation 
of  many  generations  has  established:  that  the  virtues  by 
which  the  fathers  rise  are  as  a  rule  not  handed  down  to 
grandson  and  great  grandson;  that  even  if  the  occu- 
pation is  inherited,  the  ability  to  carry  it  on  disappears. 
Each  aristocracy,  be  it  aristocracy  of  property  or  of  occu- 
pation, degenerates  in  the  course  of  time  like  the  plant 
growing  in  too  fertile  soil.  In  this  it  is  not  at  all  necessary 
to  think  of  a  moral  decay;  it  suffices  if  the  physical  and  in- 
tellectual powers  decline,  and  procreation  grows  weak. 
The  introduction  of  uncorrupted  blood,  ascending  from  the 
lower  to  the  higher  vocations,  appears  then  a  condition 
fundamental  to  the  healthy  exchange  of  social  material. 
The  great  problem  of  the  century,  indeed,  we  have  always 
considered  to  be  the  ensuring  that  a  gradual  rise  in  the  so- 
cial scale  is  made  pjossible;  that  a  continuous  regeneration 
of  the  higher  vocational  classes  takes  place.  -•  the  caste 
system,  which  would  be  a  necessary  consequence  of  the 
theory  of  heredity,  we  have  ever  seen  the  beginning,  not 
the  end  of  the  progress  of  civilization. 

We  will  not  allow  ourselves  to  be  led  astray  in  this  con- 
ception. The  solution  of  the  problem  just  mentioned  is 
for  modern  civilized  peoples  a  question  of  their  very  ex- 
istence. For  if  history  has  taught  anything  with  insistence 
it  is,  that  for  a  people  that  can  no  longer  bt  renewed 


I  SI 


hi 


344 


tyORK  AND  SOCIAL   CLASSES. 


from  the  fresh  spring  of  pure  physical  and  intellectual 
strength  flowing  in  the  lower  classes,  the  statement  once 
made  by  B.  G.  Niebuhr  with  regard  to  England  and  Hol- 
land holds  good:  the  marrow  has  departed  fvoi;'  their 
bones,  they  are  doomed  to  inevitable  decay. 


"Ml 


I 


,.'! 


CHAPTER   X. 


INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND  THE  GROWTH 
OF   TOWNS   CONSIDERED    HISTORICALLY. 

All  prehistoric  investigation,  as  far  as  it  relates  to  the 
pJienomena  of  the  animate  world,  necessarily  rests  upon 
the  hypothesis  of  migration.  The  distribution  of  plants, 
of  the  lower  animals  and  of  men  over  the  surface  of  the 
earth;  the  relationships  existing  between  the  different 
languages,  religious  conceptions,  myths  and  legends,  cus- 
toms and  social  institutions;  all  these  seem  ir  this  one 
assumption  to  find  their  common  explanation. 

In  the  history  of  mankind  we  have,  to  be  sure,  aban- 
doned the  view  that  nomad  life  is  to  be  regarded  as  a 
universal  phase  in  the  r  rowth  of  civilization,  which  each 
people  necessarily  traversed  before  making  fix'^  settle- 
ments, and  which  served,  along  with  the  taming  of 
domestic  animals,  as  the  "  natural  "  pathway  of  a  people 
passing  from  the  hunting  stage  to  agriculture.  Ethno- 
graphic research  has  made  it  sufficiently  clear  that  all 
primitive  peoples,  whatever  the  economic  foundations 
of  their  existence,  readily,  often,  indeed,  for  very  insig- 
nificant reasons,  shift  their  habitations,  and  that  they 
exhibit  an  extraordinary  number  of  stages  intermediate 
between  nomadic  and  settled  life.'  The  northern  and 
southern  limits  of  the  inhabited  world  are  stiU  peopled 

Comp.  Z.  Dimti  off.  Die  Geringschatsung  d.  menscklichcn  Lebens  u. 
ihre  Ursathen  bei  d.  Naturvclk.  (Leipzig,  1891),  pp.  33  ff. 

345 


u 


346     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND  THE 

by  races  without  fixed  abode;  and  even  in  its  midst  there 
are  broad  areas  in  which  a  condition  of  continual  migra- 
tion prevails.  Most  civilized  peoples  have  proverbs  or 
other  historic  bequests  from  such  a  time. 

In  the  German  language  this  far-distant  period  of  univer- 
sal mobility  has  left  distinct  traces.  The  word  for  "  healthy" 
{gcsnnd)  meant  originally  "  ready  for  the  road."  «    Gesmde, 
signifying  to-day  household  servants,  is,  in  the  olden 
speech,  a  travelling  retinue;  companions  (Gcfdhrtc  and 
Gefdhrtin)  means,  in  the  strictly  literal  sense,  the  fellow- 
traveller.     Ertahrmg  (experience)  is  what  one  has  ob- 
tained on  the  journey  {fahmi);  and  bcwandcrt  (skilled)  is 
applied  to  the  person  who  has  wandered  much.     With 
these    the    list    of    such  expressions    is    far    from    ex 
hausted.     In  the  general  significance  attached  to  them 
to-day  the  universality  of  the  concrete  range  of  concep- 
tions and  observations  from  which  v  ey  originally  sprang 

finds  expression. 

It  is  natural  to  suppose  that  this  condition  of  general 
nomadic  wandering,  with  its  deep-rooted  nomadic  cus- 
toms, did  not  suddenly  cease;  that,  in  all  probability, 
the  wiiolc  course  of  further  development  down  to  our  own 
day  has  been  a  gradual  progress  towards  a  settled  condi- 
tion and  an  ever-closer  attachment  of  the  man  to  the  spot 

wner*  he  was  born. 

Various  indications  support  this  view.  Among  our 
forefathers  the  house  is  reckoned  movable  property; 
and  it  is  demonstrable  that  many  settlements  have  within 
historic  times  changed  their  locations.  Despite  the  lack 
of  artificial  roads  and  comfortable  means  of  transporta- 
tion.the  individual  appears  in  the  Middle  Ages  much  more 
migratory  than  ac  a  later  time.    This  is  supported  by  the 

*  [From  sendtn,  meaning  to  go,  to  travel.— Ed.1 


GROIVTH  OF  TOH^NS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.      347 

numerous  pilgrimages  that  extended  as  far  as  St.  lago,  in 
Spain,  by  the  crusades,  by  the  great  bands  of  travellers, 
the  migratory  life  of  king  and  court,  the  rights  of  hospi- 
tality of  the  marquisates  and  the  developed  system  of 
escorts. 

Each  fresh  advance  in  culture  commences,  so  to  speak, 
with  a  new  period  of  wandering.  The  most  primitive  agri- 
culture is  nomadic,  with  a  yearly  abandonment  of  the  cul- 
tivated area;  the  earliest  trade  is  migratory  trade;  the 
first  industries  that  free  themselves  from  the  household 
husbandry  and  become  the  special  occupations  of  separate 
individuals  are  carried  on  itinerantly.  The  great  founders 
of  reHgion,  the  earliest  poets  and  philosophers,  the  musi- 
cians and  actors  of  past  epochs  are  all  great  wanderers. 
Even  to-day,  do  not  the  inventor,  the  preacher  of  a 
new  doctrine,  and  the  virtuoso  travel  from  place  to  place 
in  search  of  adherents  and  admirers — notwithstanding  the 
immense  recent  development  in  the  means  of  communi- 
cating information? 

As  civilization  grows  older,  settlement  becomes  more 
permanent.  The  Greek  was  more  settled  than  the  Phoe- 
nician, the  Roman  than  the  Greek,  because  one  was  al- 
ways the  inheritor  of  the  culture  of  the  other.  Conditions 
have  not  changed.  The  German  is  more  migratory  than 
the  Latin,  the  Slav  than  the  (Jernian.  The  Frenchman 
cleaves  to  his  native  soil;  the  Russian  leaves  it  with  a  light 
heart  to  seek  in  other  parts  of  his  broad  Fatherland  more 
favourable  conditions  of  living.  Even  the  factory  work- 
man is  but  a  periodically  wandering  peasant. 

To  all  that  can  be  adduced  from  experience  in  support 
of  the  statement  that  in  the  course  of  history  mankind 
has  been  ever  growing  more  settled,  there  comes  a  gen- 
eral consideration  of  a  twofold  nature.  In  tlie  first  place 
the  extent  of  fixed  capital  g'ows  with  advancing  culture; 


»  \ 


348     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND   THE 

the  producer  becomes  stationary  with  his  means  of  pro- 
duction. The  itinerant  smith  of  the  souther  Slav  coun- 
tries and  the  Westphalian  ironworks,  the  pack-horses  of 
the  Middle  Ages  and  the  great  warehouses  of  our  cities, 
the  Thespian  carts  and  the  resident  theatre  mark  the 
starting  and  the  terminal  points  of  this  evolution.  In  the 
second  place  the  modern  machinery  of  transportation 
has  in  a  far  higher  degree  facilitated  the  transport  of 
goods  than  of  persons.  The  distribution  of  labour  de- 
termined by  locality  thereby  attains  greater  importance 
than  the  natural  distribution  of  the  means  of  production; 
the  latter  in  many  cases  draws  the  former  after  it, 
where  previously  the  reverse  occurred. 

To  these  statements  there  are,  of  course,  some  consider- 
ations and  facts  opposed.  First,  the  extent  to  which  man 
was  by  law  tied  to  the  soil  in  the  earlier  agrarian  period — 
the  unfree  nature  of  all  his  economic  and  legal  relation- 
ships in  contrast  with  the  modern  freedom  of  person  and 
property.  Further,  and  in  part  as  a  result  of  this, 
we  have  in  modem  times  the  entire  dependence  of  many 
individuals  upon  movable  capital  or  personal  skill.  Still 
further,  the  growing  ease  of  transfer  of  landed  property 
which  to-day  allows  the  peasant  to  convert  house  and  land 
into  money  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean  to  start 
life  anew;  while  the  villein  of  the  Middle  Ages  could  at 
most  attach  himself  as  an  c.xtra-nuiral  citizen  to  a  ncigli- 
bouring  town  whence  he  either  contiimed  to  carr>-  on  his 
work  in  the  village  personally,  or  leased  it  in  some  form 
or  other  to  a  second  person  for  a  yearly  rent.  Finally. 
the  increase  one  observes  in  the  flow  of  rural  popula- 
tion to  the  to\<ns  which  has  been  manifesting  itself  for 
half  a  centurv  in  a  remarkably  rapid  rise  in  nrhan.  and 
at  some  pc^ints  in  a  stationary  or  even  declining  rural, 
poi)ulation.     \\  itli  .ill  these  circuinstatv>  ?s  in  mind,  many 


GROIVTH   OF    TOIVNS   CONSIDERED   HISTORICALLY.       349 


consider  themselves  justified  in  speaking  of  the  steadily 
advancing  mobility  of  society. 

How  are  these  two  series  of  phenomena  to  be  recon- 
ciled? Is  it  a  question  of  two  principles  of  development 
mutually  opposed?  Or  is  it  possible  that  modern  migra- 
tions and  those  of  past  centuries  are  of  essential!}  diflferent 
types? 

One  would  almost  be  inclined  to  believe  the  latter  The 
migrations  occurring  at  the  opening  of  the  history  of 
European  peoples  are  migrations  of  whole  tribes,  a  push- 
ing and  pressing  of  collective  units  from  east  tc;  west  which 
lasted  for  centuries.  The  migrations  of  the  Middle  Ages 
ever  affect  individual  classes  alone;  the  knights  in  the 
crusades,  the  merchants,  the  wage  craftsmen,  the  journey- 
men hand-workers,  the  jugglers  and  minstrels,  the  villeins 
seeking  protection  within  the  walls  of  a  town.  Modern 
migrat'ons,  on  the  contrary,  are  generally  a  matter  of  pri- 
vate concern,  the  individuals  being  led  by  the  most  varied 
motives.  They  are  almost  invarialily  without  organiza- 
tion. The  process  repeating  itself  daily  a  thousand 
times  is  united  only  throu}^!-]!  the  one  characteristic,  that 
it  is  everywhere  a  question  of  change  of  locality  by  per- 
sons seeking  more  favourable  conditions  of  life. 

Yet  such  a  distinction  would  not  be  fully  in  accord  with 
the  nature  of  either  modern  or  media-val  migrations.  If 
we  would  grasp  their  true  importance  in  historical  evolu- 
tion we  must  fust  thin  out  the  tangled  thicket  of  con- 
fused contemporar)  opinions  that  still  surrounds  the 
whole  subject  ilespite  all  the  ctTorts  of  statistics  and  politi- 
cal economy. 

Among  all  the  phenomena  of  masses  in  sticial  life  suited 
to  statistical  treatment  there  is  without  tloubt  scarcely 
one  that  appears  to  fall  of  itself  so  complett'Iy  under  the 
general  law  of  causality  as  migrations;  and  likeuisc  hardly 


til 


1' '  !"   ^1 


350     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND  THE 

one  concerning  whose  real  cause  such  misty  conceptions 

prevail. 

Yet,  not  merely  in  popular  circles  and  in  the  press,  but 
even  in  scientific  works,  migratory  instincis  are  spoken  of; 
and  thus  those  movements  of  men  from  place  to  place  are 
put  without  the  pale  of  deliberate  action.  Indeed,  a  statis- 
tician once  entitled  an  article  in  the  Journal  of  the  Prus- 
sian Statistical  Bureau  of  1873  "The  Affection  for  the 
Homestead  and  the  Migratory  Instinct  of  the  Prussian 
People,"  just  as  if  home-keeping  depended  merely  upon 
natural  disposition,  and  the  abandoning  of  it  upon  an 
irresistible    instinctive   impulse    stronger   with    one   race 

than  another! 

In  strange  contradiction  to  this,  to  be  sure,  is  the  fact 
that    while  the  great  bulk  of  official  statistical  compila- 
tions remains  unheeded  by  wider  circles,  the  publication 
of  the  emigration  returns  generally  excites  a  most  active 
expression  of  public  opinion.  The  rising  and  faUing  of  the 
figures  bring  fear  and  hope,  approbation  and  disapproba- 
tion, editorial  leaders  and  speeches  in  Parliament.     Here 
naturally  we  hear  less  about  migrator>-  instincts  and  the 
love  of  home;  people  have  avague  feeling  that  behind  those 
Huctuating  phenomena  stand  very  concrete  causes.    Cut 
how  little  they  comprehend  the  nature  of  these  causes 
is  evident  when  we  recall,  for  example,  that  a  few  years 
ago  it  was  a  matter  of  grave  debate  in  the  (lerman  Reichs- 
tag whether  people  emigrated  because  they  were  getting 
along  well  or  because  they  were  not. 

With  regard  to  this  jjfoblem  one  cannot  say  that  as  yet 
statistics  have  succeeded  in  escaping  from  the  turbid 
-waters  of  confuse<l  popular  opinions  to  the  firm  conclti- 
sions  of  exact  observation.  From  the  statistical  stand- 
point migration  is  above  all  an  economic  and  social  phe- 
nomenon of  masse>^;  .iiul  stritistin;.ns.  in  our  opinion,  have 


W^. 


awngyami  lji.i:  >*«» . 


GROU^TH  OF  TOIVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.      35 » 

been  precipitate  in  abandoning  the  attempt  to  discover 
with  their  peculiar  machinery  the  causes  of  these  migra- 
tions and  turning  to  investigation  by  inquiry  before  the 
resources  of  the  statistical  method  were  exhausted. 

A  perusal  of  the  perfunctory  remarks  that  Quetelet' 
devotes  to  the  phenomenon  of  emigration  will  readily  con- 
vmce  anyone  that  his  exposition  of  the  subject  hardly  rises 
above  the  prosaic  commonplace.  True,  one  finds  on  go- 
ing through  the  official  publications  of  recent  date  that 
detailed  systematic  interrogations  on  the  "  causes  "  and 
"  grounds  "  of  emigration,  which  would  not  even  perplex 
the  less  intelligent  of  the  communal  officials  consulted,  are 
by  no  means  infrequent.  But  one  immediately  feels  that 
such  suggestive  (|uestions  mean  the  substitution  of  a  series 
of  subjective  presumptions  for  the  objective  results  of  in- 
vestigation. 

Before  resorting,  however,  to  a  means  of  information 
that  reads  into  the  numbers  only  a  strained  interpre- 
tation not  following  of  itself,  we  should  rather  tr>' 
to  determine  the  phenomena  of  migrations  themselves. 
We  should  classify  them  according  to  numerical  regu- 
larity, and  connect  them  with  other  mass-phenomena  of 
difTerent  times  and  places  accessible  to  statistics  (for  ex- 
ample, the  density  of  population,  its  division  into  trades, 
the  .listrihution  oi  landed  property,  the  rate  of  labour 
wages,  the  oscillation  in  food  prices);  that  is,  undertake 
the  statistical  experiment  of  drawing  up  parallel  lines  of 
isolated  series  of  figures. 

From  even  these  first  steps  on  the  road  to  an  exact 
method  we  are.  however,  still  far  removed.  The  whole  de- 
partment of  migrations  has  never  yet  undergone  system- 
atic statistical  observation;    exclusive  attention  has  hith- 


•  D«  systime  social  ft  des  lots  qui  It  ri-gissent,  pp.  186-190. 


!!■'  V-  p 


3Si      INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND   THE 

erto  been  centred  upon  remarkable  individual  occur- 
rences of  such  phenomena.  Even  a  rational  classification 
of  migrations  in  accord  with  the  demand  of  social  science 
is  at  the  present  moment  lacking. 

Such  a  classification  would  have  to  take  as  its  starting- 
point  the  result  of  migrations  from  the  point  of  view  of 
population.  On  this  basis  they  would  fall  into  these 
groups: — 

1.  Migrations  with  continuous  change  of  locality. 

2.  "  '■      temporary  change  of  settlement. 
3.'           "  "      permanent  settlement. 

To  the  first  i^roup  belong  gypsy  life,  peddling,  the  carry- 
ing on  of  itinerant  trades,  tramp  life;  to  the  second,  the 
wandering  of  journeymen  craftsmen,  domestic  servants, 
tradesmen  seeking  the  most  favourable  spots  for  tempo- 
rary undertakings,  officials  to  whom  a  definite  office  is 
for  a  time  entrusted,  scholars  attending  foreign  institu- 
tions of  learning;  to  the  third,  migration  from  place  to 
place  within  the  same  countr>'  or  province  and  to  foreign 
parts,  especially  across  the  ocean. 

An  intermediate  stage  between  the  first  and  second 
group  is  found  in  the  periodical  migrations.  To  this  stage 
belong  the  migrations  of  farm  labourers  at  harvest-time, 
of  the  sugar  labourers  at  the  time  of  the  campagne,  of  the 
masons  of  Upper  Italy  and  the  Ticmo  district,  common 
day-labourers,  potters,  chimney-sweeps,  chestnut-roast- 
ers, etc..  which  recur  at  definite  seasons. 

In  this  division  the  influence  of  the  natural  and  political 
insulation  of  the  different  countries  is.  it  is  true,  neglected. 
It  must  not.  however,  be  overlooked  that  in  the  era  of 
nationalism  and  protection  of  national  labour  political  al- 
lej^iance  has  a  certain  importance  in  connection  with  the 
objective  point  of  the  migrations.     It  would,  therefore,  in 


'-•v»!^Tr-Ear  jz»:*wfe  r    /x. .  .ta'n.*i"»r?n^».  "wrj" 


CROIVTH  OF  TOfVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.      353 

our  opinion,  be  more  just  to  make  another  division, 
taking  as  a  basis  the  politico-geographical  extent  of  the 
migrations.  From  this  point  of  view  migrations  would 
fall  into  internal  and  foreign. 

Internal  migrations  are  those  whose  points  of  departure 
and  destination  lie  within  the  same  national  limits;  for- 
eign, those  extending  beyond  these.  The  foreign  may 
again  be  divided  into  continental  and  extra-European 
(generally  transmaritime)  emigration.  One  can,  however, 
in  a  larger  sense  designate  all  migrations  that  do  not  leave 
the  limits  of  the  ODntinent  as  internal,  and  contrast  with 
them  real  emigration,  or  transfer  of  domicile  to  other  parts 
of  the  globe. 

Of  all  these  manifold  kinds  of  migration,  the  trans- 
maritime  alone  has  regularly  been  the  subject  of  official 
statistics;  and  even  it  has  been  but  imperfectly  treated,  as 
every  student  of  this  subject  knows.  The  periodic 
emigrations  of  labour  and  the  peddling  trade  have  occa- 
sionally been  also  subjected  to  statistical  investigation — 
mostly  with  the  secondary  aim  of  legislative  restriction. 
The  Government  of  Italy  alone  has  long  been  endeavour- 
ing to  clear  up  the  subject  of  the  periodic  migration  of  a 
part  of  her  population  to  other  European  lands  through 
local  investigations,  exchange  of  tabulation-cards  and 
consular  reports. 

The  migrations  involving  permanent  and  temporary 
transfer  of  settlement  between  the  different  European 
countries  are  but  very  imperfectly  noticed  in  the  publica- 
tions of  the  population  census  by  means  of  the  returns  of 
births  and  of  nationality.  As  for  internal  migrations,  they 
have  only  in  rare  instances  met  with  serious  consideration. 

Yet  these  migrations  from  place  to  place  within  the 
same  country  are  vastly  more  numerous  and  in  their  con- 


.i,'B'»»rei*sS5« 


f!'V 


II  i  ii 


354     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND  THE 

sequences  vastly  more  important  than  all  other  kinds  of 
migration  put  together.* 

Of  the  total  population  of  the  Kingdom  of  Belgium 
there  were,  according  to  the  results  of  the  census  of  31st 
December,  1880,  not  less  than  32.8  per  cent,  who  were 
born  outside  the  municipality  in  which  they  had  their  tem- 
porary domicile;'  of  the  population  of  Austria  (1890), 
34.8  per  cent.  The  actual  population  of  Prussia  on  the 
first  of  December,  1880,  was  divided  as  follows: — 

No.  of       Per  ct.  of  whole 
PUcc  of  Birth.  Peisona.  Population. 

1.  In  the  municipality  where  enumerated 1S.721.S88  57-6 

2.  Elsewhere  in  census  district  (.Krtis) 4.S99.664  16.9 

3.  Elsewhere  in  enumerated  province 4.556.124  i6.7 

4.  Elsewhere  in  Prussia 1,658,187  6.1 

5.  Elsewhere  in  Germany 526,037  1.9 

6.  In  foreign  parts  under  German  flag 212,021  0.8 

Of  27,279,111  persons,  11,552,033.  or  42-4  per  cent., 
were  born  outside  the  municipality  where  they  were  domi- 
ciled." More  than  two-fifths  of  the  population  had 
changed  their  municipality  at  least  once.  Of  the  popula- 
tion of  Switzerland  on  the  first  of  December,  1888,  there 
were  born  in  the  commune  where  then  domiciled  56.4.  in 
another  commune  of  the  same  canton  25.7.  in  another 
canton  11. 5,  in  foreign  parts  6.4  per  cent.^  The  commune 
in  this  enumeration  is  an  administrative  centre,  which  in 
many  parts  of  the  State  embraces  several  places  of  resi- 
dence. The  figures  here  given  thus  exclude  altogether 
the  numerous  class  of  migrations  from  locality  to  locality 
within  the  commune  itself. 

•Comp.  now  also  G.  von  Mayr.  Statistik  m.  GeselUckaftsUhre,  II,  pp. 

li6fT.  354  ff-  _^ 

"  \ntiuairt  statist,  de  la  Belgique.  XVI  (1885).  p.  76. 
•Ztschr    d.  k.  preus^    statist,  Bureaus,  XXI  (1881),  Beilage  I,  pp. 

46.47 

♦Statist.  Jhrb.  <!    Schweiz.  II  (1892),  p.  57. 


GROIVTH  OF  TOIVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.      355 

This  latter  class  of  internal  migrations,  as  far  as  we  are 
aware,  has  been  but  once  a  subject  of  investigation.  This 
was  in  connection  with  the  Bavarian  birth  statistics  of 
1871.*  According  to  these  the  total  actual  population  of 
Bavaria  was  divided  as  follows: — 

Place  of  Birth.  No.  of       Pw  ct.  of  whole 

Penom.         Population. 

1.  In  the  municipality  where  enumerated 2,975,146  61.2 

2.  Elsewhere  in  census  district  (Kreis) 143,186  3.0 

3.  Elsewhere  in  enumerated  province 677,752  13.9 

4.  Elsewhere  in  Bavaria 944,  loi  19.4 

5.  Elsewhere  in  Germany 78,241  1.6 

6.  In  foreign  parts 44,150  0.9 

The  Bavarian  population  of  1871  thus  appears  some- 
what more  settled  than  the  Prussian  of  1880  and  the  Swiss 
of  1888,  a  circumstance  perhaps  due  to  the  earlier  year  of 
the  census.  Nevertheless,  two-fifths  of  the  inhabitants 
(1,888,000  out  of  4,863,000)  were  not  native  to  the  place 
in  which  they  were  living;  that  is,  had  migrated  thither 
at  some  time  or  other.  In  the  larger  cities  the  number  of 
people  not  of  local  birth  amounted  to  as  much  as  54.5  per 
cent.,  in  the  small  rural  towns  43.2  per  cent.;  even  in  the 
communes  of  the  open  country  it  sank  to  merely  35.6  per 
cent. 

These  are  colossal  migrations  that  we  are  dealing  with. 
If  one  may  venture  an  estimate,  the  data  for  which  cannot 
be.  gfiven  in  detail  here,  we  believe  ourselves  justified  in 
maintaining  that  the  number  of  the  inhabitants  of  Europe 
owing  their  present  place  of  domicile  not  to  birth,  but  to 
migration,  reaches  far  over  one  hundred  millions.  How 
small  do  the  oft-cited  figures  of  transmaritime  emigration 
appear  in  comparison!  ® 

'  Die  bayerische  Bevdlkerung  nock  d.  Gebiirtigkeit.    Bearbeitet  von  Dr. 

G.  Mayr  (No.  XXXII  of  Beitrdge  s.  Statistik  d.  Konigr.  Bayem),  p.  10. 

*In  the  seventy  years,  1821-1891,  the  United  States  of  America  re- 


W    !'i 


f  *! 


(:•<' 


356     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND  THE 

That  such  enormous  movements  of  population  must 
draw  after  them  far-reaching  consequences  is  obvious. 
These  consequences  are  chiefly  economic  and  social. 

The  economic  result  of  all  kinds  of  migrations  is  a  local 
exchange  of  labour  and,  as  people  cannot  be  dissociated 
from  their  economic  equipment,  a  considerable  transfer  of 
capital  as  well.  Or  we  may  say,  since  we  must  presume 
that  in  these  matters  also  men's  actions  have  definite  pur- 
poses behind  them,  that  they  bring  about  more  effective 
distribution  and  combination  of  labour  and  capital 
throughout  the  whole  inhabited  world.  In  this  regard  it 
is  indifferent  whether  labour  follows  capital  or  favourable 
natural  conditions,  or  capital  seeks  unemployed  hands. 

Their  social  result  is  great  shiftings  of  the  population, 
which  with  an  endless,  undulatory  motion  seeks  to  pre- 
serve the  equilibrium  between  itself  and  existing  advan- 
tages for  trade.  These  shiftings  retard  the  increase  in 
population  at  certain  points,  and  accelerate  it  at  others,— 
at  once  a  thinning  out  and  a  concentration.  The  local 
distribution  of  the  population,  which  is  ordinarily  deter- 
mined by  natural  organic  increase,  through  surplus  of 
births  over  deaths,  is  broken  through. 

But  in  this  very  respect  there  is  for  the  individual  State 
an  important  difference  between  internal  migration  and 

emigration. 

The  immediate  effect  of  emigration  upon  the  mother 
country  shows  itself  in  only  one  way:  it  thins  out  the  pop- 
ulation and  gives  elbow-room  to  the  remainder.  That  at 
the  same  time  the  settlement  and  development  of  thinly- 
peopled  colonial  territories  is  accelerated  only  indirectly 
affects  the  mother  country  when  ultimately  by  the  prac- 
tice of  agriculture  on  a  virgin  soil  the  emigrants  create  a 
ceived  from  all  countries  of  Europe  13.692.576  immigrants,  v.  Mayr,  as 
above,  p.  344- 


CROIVTH  OF  TOIVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.       357 


dangerous  competition  for  home  agricultural  products,  or 
by  the  transference  of  industrial  skill  and  means  of  pro- 
duction into  foreign  lands  cut  off  the  market  of  home  in- 
dustry. 

The  effects  of  internal  migrations,  on  the  other  hand, 
are  always  of  two  kinds:  those  displaying  themselves 
at  the  points  of  departure;  those  perceptible  at  the  objec- 
tive points.  In  the  one  case  they  reduce,  in  the  other 
they  increase,  the  density  of  the  population.  They 
thus  cause,  as  it  were,  a  division  of  the  popula- 
tion centres  and  districts  into  t'.iose  producing  and 
those  consuming  human  beings.  Our  producing  centre" 
are  generally  the  country  places  and  smaller  towns;  our 
consuming  centres,  the  large  cities  and  industrial  districts. 
The  latter  increase  in  population  beyond  the  natural  rate 
of  the  birth  surplus,  while  the  former  remain  noticeably 
behind  it.  Taking  a  yearly  average  for  the  period  of  eigh- 
teen years  from  1867  to  1885,  the  total  population  of  the 
German  Empire  has  increased  by  0.86  per  cent,  of  the 
mean  population."  Yet  when  we  look  at  the  details  we 
see  that  the  average  yearly  increase  amounted: 

In  the  large  cities                (pop.    loo.cxn  and  over)  to  a.6  per  cent. 
"    "   medium-siied  cities  (  "        30,000  to  100,000)  "  3.4    "      " 
"    "   small  cities                (  "          5,000"     30,000)  "  1.8    "      " 
"    "  country  towns           (  "          a.ooo  •'      s.ooo)  "  i.o    "      '• 
"    "   villages  (below     8,000)  •' 

But  of  course  the  phenomenon  of  inland  migrations  is 
really  not  so  simple  and  clear  as  this  row  of  figures  would 
seem  to  indicate.  It  certainly  vividly  illumines  the  much- 
talked-of  "  inHux  to  the  cities."  This  expression,  however, 
tells  only  half  the  truth.  It  overlooks  the  great  number  of 
internal  migrations  that  counterbalance  one  another,  and 

"According  to  Schumann  in  Mayr's  Allg.  statist.  Archiv.,  II  (1890), 

P-  518. 


MKIOCOnr  RtSOUJTION  TEST  CHAtT 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


A 


/APPLIED  IM/QE    I 

<6S3  Eoit  Main   Strnt 

RochMttr,    N«w    Torh         1 4609        USA 

('!«)  *82  -  0300  -  Phon« 

("«)   2M-  5989  -Fo, 


;iil  (r 


358     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND   THE 

therefore  find  no  expression  in  a  change  in  the  number 
of  inhabitants  of  individual  localities. 

If  we  take  a  collective  view  of  the  internal  migrations 
of  a  large  country,  without  regard  to  their  effect  on  the 
distribution  of  the  inhabitants  over  the  surface,  their 
routes  appear  to  us  as  a  close  variegated  web  in  which  the 
interwoven  threads  cross  and  recross  continually.  Into 
the  rather  simple  warp  stretched  from  the  country  places 
and  towns  to  the  large  cities  and  industrial  centres  is 
woven  a  many-coloured  woof  whose  threads  run  hither 
and  thither  between  the  smaller  centres  of  population.  Or, 
to  use  a  different  figure,  the  broad  and  majestically  surg- 
ing surface-current,  which  alone  we  see,  is  not  the  only 
one;  beneath  it  numerous  lesser  currents  sport  at  will. 

Up  to  the  present  these  latter  have  received  scarcely 
any  attention,  certainly  not  so  much  as  they  deserve,  even 
in  cases  where  they  happen  to  have  been  statistically  as- 
certained. The  Bavarian  census  of  1871  shows  the  follow- 
ing situation: 

Retidcnti  native       •>„_ 
toLoc»lilyof     pi^I^„  ToUl. 

EnumeiatfoD.     E^^'h^"- 

In  the  self-governing  cities ^. .     301, 494       361.899      663.393 

In  other  places  of  over  2,000  population.      205,887       iS7.o<»      36^,887 

Total   507,381       518,899    T    j6,28o 

In  the  rural  municipalities 2,467,765     i.3S7.98l    J,«-25,746 

Grand  total 3,975.146     1,876,880    4.852,026 

From  these  figures  it  is  plainly  evident  that  the  abso- 
lute number  of  persons  who  during  the  last  generation 
migrated  into  rural  municipalities  is  far  more  than  twice 
as  great  as  the  number  who  had  migrated  to  the  cities. 
The  same  relation  probably  holds  good  for  all  larger 
countries. 

But  the  significant  feature  in  this  connection  is  not  that 


CROU^TH  OF  TOIVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.       359 

the  country  places  receive  as  well  as  give  in  this  inter- 
change of  population;  it  lies  in  two  other  considerations. 
The  one  is  that  they  give  out  a  larger  population  than 
they  receive;  the  other,  that  their  additions  are  made 
chiefly  from  the  rural  municipalities,  while  those  leaving 
them  find  their  way  in  part  to  the  more  distant  cities.  The 
excess  of  decrease  over  increase  thus  accrues  to  the  bene- 
fit of  communities  of  higher  order;  so  much  of  the  popu- 
lation enters  into  a  sphere  of  life  economically  and  socially 
diflferent. 

If  we  call  the  total  population  born  in  a  given  place 
and  domiciled  anywhere  within  the  borders  of  the  coun- 
try that  locality's  native  population,  then  according  to  the 
conditions  of  interchange  of  population  just  presented 
the  native  population  of  the  country  places  is  greater  than 
their  actual  population,  that  of  the  cities,  smaller.  Thus 
in  Bavaria,  according  to  the  census  of  187 1,  the  native 
population  of  the  rural  municipalities  amounted  to  103.5 
per  cent,  of  the  enumerated  population,  that  of  the  cities 
to  only  61  per  cent."  In  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Olden- 
burg '*  according  to  the  census  of  December  ist,  1880, 

The  influx  from  other  places  amounted  in  the  citiei      to  25,370  persons 

The  exodus  to        "  "  cities       "  io,ao8       " 

The  influx  from      "  "  "  "    "    country  "  57,366       " 

The  exodus  to        "  "  "  ••    "    country  "72,528       " 

A  balancing  of  the  account  of  the  internal  migrations 
thus  gives  the  cities  a  surplus,  and  the  country  municipal- 
ities a  deficit,  of  15,162  persons.  In  the  economy  of  popu- 
lation one  is  the  complement  of  the  other,  just  as  in  the 
case  of  two  brothers  of  different  temperament,  one  of 
whom  regularly  spends  what  the  other  has  laboriously 

"  Mayr,  as  above,  pp.  5.1,  54  of  the  introduction. 

"Comp.  Statist.  Nachrickten  iiber  d.  Grosch.  Oldtnbwt,  XIX,  p.  64. 


:l 


360     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND   THE 

saved.  To  this  extent  then  we  are  quite  justified  from 
the  point  of  view  of  population  in  designating  the  cities 
man-consuming  and  the  country  municipalities  man-pro- 
ducing social  organisms. 

But  the  total  remaining  loss  of  population  of  the  coun- 
try municipalities  exceeds  the  surplus  that  they  furnish 
to  the  cities,  even  in  the  example  here  given  from  a  small 
State,  by  almost  four  times.   And  the  amount  that  they 
receive  from  one  another  is  just  as  great.    However  large 
this  mutual  exchange  of  population  by  the  country  places 
may  appear,  only  a  relatively  limited  scientific  interest 
really  attaches  to  it.     For  here  we  are  dealing  with  a 
species  of  migration  which  arises  from  the  social  limita- 
tions of  the  rural  places,  and  which  accordingly  gains  in 
importance  the  smaller  the  communities.    In  the  whole 
Grand  Duchy  of  Oldenburg  the  number  of  persons  not 
bom  where  at  the  time  residing  amounted  in: 

Municipalities  of  less  than  500  inhabitants  to SS-of» 

"  "     500  to  1,000  "  " 37-4% 

"  i.oooto  i.soo  "  " 417% 

"  "  1,500  to  2,000  "  " 40.4% 

"  2,000  to  3,ooo  "  " 387% 

"  "  3,000  to  4.000  "  " 22.2% 

"  "  4,000  to  5,000  "  " ao.6% 

«  "       over  5.000  "  " 29-4% 

From  this  we  notice  that  in  the  smaller  municipalities 
(up  to  4000  inhabitants),  as  the  absolute  size  of  the  mu 
nicipality  increases  the  influx  from  other  places  decreases 
relatively  to  the  native  population,  while  in  the  larger 
places  it  increases. 

Mayr  has  shown  that  the  same  holds  for  Bavaria.  There 
in  the  year  1871  in  the  lartjer  rural  municipalities  (of  2000 
and  more  inlubitants)  the  number  of  those  resident  in  the 
place  of  birth  was  66.9  per  cent.,  but  in  the  smaller  mu- 


GROWTH  OF  TOIVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.       361 


nicipalities  only  64.4  per  cent.,*^  while  in  the  cities  the 
exact  opposite  was  the  case.  For  in  the  self-governing 
cities  45.5  per  cent,  of  the  population  were  found  to  have 
been  born  where  enumerated,  but  in  the  other  (smaller) 
towns  56.8  per  cent.  Mayr  accordingly  sets  up  the  prop- 
osition that  in  the  cities  the  proportion  of  persons  born  where 
residing  decreases  with  the  sice  of  the  place,  while  in  the 
rural  municipalities,  on  the  contrary,  it  increases}* 

There  is  a  very  natural  explanation  for  this  condition 
of  affairs  in  the  country.  Where  the  peasant,  on  account 
of  the  small  population  of  his  place  of  residence,  is 
much  restricted  in  his  local  choice  of  help,  adjoining  com- 
munities must  supplement  one  another.  In  like  man- 
ner the  inhabitants  of  small  places  will  intermarry  more 
frequently  than  the  inhabitants  of  larger  places  where 
there  is  a  greater  choice  among  the  native  population. 
Here  we  have  the  occasion  for  very  numerous  migrations 
to  places  not  far  removed.  Such  migrations,  however,  only 
mean  a  local  exchange  of  socially  allied  elements. 

This  is  again  clearly  shown  by  the  "work,  already  fre- 
quently referred  to,  on  the  native-born  population  of 
Oldenburg.  In  it  the  foreign-born  population  of  Wadde- 
warden,  Holle  and  Cappeln,  three  communities  chosen  at 


"Die  bayer.  Bevolkerung  nack  d.  Gebiirtigkeit.    Introduction,  p.  15. 

"This  proposition  has  been  corroborated  by  the  Austrian  census  of 
1890.    According  to  the  excellent  treatise  on  it  by  H.  Rauchberg,  Die 
Bevolkerung  Oesterreichs  auf  Grutid  d.  Ergebnisse  d.  Volkss.  v.  31.  Des. 
iS<)0  (Vienna,  1895),  p.  105,  of  every  100  persons  bom  where  enumer- 
ated there  were  in  places: 

Of  less  than  500  inhabitants 65.7% 

SCO  to    2,000         "         735% 

2,000  to    s.ooo         "         69.9% 

5,000  to  10,000         "         SS-6% 

10,000  to  20,000         "         46.4% 

over  20.000  inhabitants 43-1% 


362 


INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND   THE 


Holle. 

CappelD 

1298 

1423 

445 

388 

267 

324 

60.1 

83.5 

178 

64 

39-9 

16.5 

544 

387 

490 

33a 

90.0 

85.9 

54 

55 

10. 0 

14  I 

random,  is  arrar.ged  according  to  zones  of  distance  from 
the  place  of  birth.    The  figures  are  as  follows:  *' 

Waddewardea, 

Total  population 861 

From  other  places 270 

Of    these    latter     there  j  ^^^^.^^^  „^^t,„         g 

come   from  places  upj  p„  „„, ^5.6 

to  9  miles  distant (  " 

_                  •      J-  .               i  Absolute  number       12 
From  greater  distances    j  pg^  cent 4.4 

Migrated  to  other  places 400 

Of   those   up   to   a   dis-  (  Absolute  number  332 

tance  of  9  miles (  Per  cent 83.0 

Migrated    to  a    greater  j  Absolute  number  68 

distance \  Percent 17.0 

How  entirely  different  are  conditions  in  this  regard 
in  the  capital,  Oldenburg,  which  with  its  20,575  inhabi- 
tants is  after  all  to  be  looked  upon  as  only  a  small  city. 
Of  its  total  foreign-born  population  (13,364  persons,  or 
64.9  per  cent.)  there  come: 

From  a  Distance  of—                                 Persons.  Per  cent. 

Less  than  9  miles 2916  31.8 

From  9-4S         "    5625  42.1 

Over  45             "    4823  36.1 

Here  the  greater  part  of  the  influx  of  population  is  from 
a  distance;  the  entry  of  the  stranger-born  into  a  new 
community  means  at  the  same  time  an  entry  into  new 
social  and  economical  conditions;  and  this  urban  com- 
munity does  not  give  as  many  of  its  native  inhabitants 
to  other  districts  as  it  receives  from  them.*®  On  the 
contrary,  it  absorbs  from  a  wide  region  round  about  the 
surplus  of  emigration  over  immigration,  and  repays  it 
only  in  very  small  part. 

^^  Stati.t.  Niuh.ichtai  iibcr  d.  Grossh.  Oldenburg,  p.  65  [i  Germati  mile 
is  taken  —  4.5  Ln^lish  miles,  although  actually  =  4.6. — EdI. 

"The  city  of  Oldenburg  in  the  year  1880  received  from  other  munici- 
palities of  the  Grand  Duchy  8,725  inhabitants,  and  gave  up  to  them  only 
1,925.    See,  as  above,  p.  212. 


or 


CROIVTH  OF  TOIVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.  .    363 

This  is  the  characteristic  of  modem  cities.  If  in  our 
consideration  of  this  problem  we  pay  particular  attention 
to  this  urban  characteristic  and  to  a  like  feature  of  the 
factory  districts — ^where  the  conditions  as  to  internal  mi- 
grations are  almost  similar — we  shall  be  amply  repaid 
by  the  discovery  that  in  such  settlements  the  result 
of  internal  shiftings  of  population  receives  its  clearest 
expression.  Here,  where  the  immigrant  elements  are 
most  numerous,  there  develops  between  them  and  the 
native  population  a  social  struggle, — a  struggle  for  the 
best  conditions  of  earning  a  livelihood  or,  if  you  will,  for 
existence,  which  ends  with  the  adaptation  of  one  part  to 
the  other,  or  perhaps  with  the  final  subjugation  of  the 
one  by  the  other.  Thus,  according  to  Schliemann,*"  the 
city  of  Smyrna  had  in  the  year  1846  a  population  of  80,000 
Turks  and  8,000  Greeks;  in  the  year  1881,  on  the  con- 
trary, there  were  23,000  Turks  and  76,000  Greeks.  Tlie 
Turkish  portion  of  the  population  had  thus  in  35  years 
decreased  by  71  per  cent.,  while  the  Greeks  had  increased 
nine-fold. 

Not  everywhere,  to  be  sure,  do  those  struggles  take  the 
form  of  such  a  general  process  of  displacement;  but  in 
individual  cases  it  will  occur  with  endless  frequency  within 
a  country  that  the  stronger  and  better  equipped  element 
will  overcome  the  weaker  and  less  well  equipped. 

In  the  year  1871,  for  instance,  there  were,  in  round 
numbers,  86,000  Bavarians  living  in  Munich  not  born 
in  the  city;  and  at  the  same  time  some  18,000  na- 
tives of  Munich  were  to  be  found  in  other  places  in 
Bavaria.  In  the  year  1890  55.3  per  cent,  of  the  popula- 
tion of  the  twenty-six  largest  cities  of  Germany  was  found 
to  have  been  born  in  other  places,  while  22.3  per  cent,  of 


J 


"  Reiit  in  d,  Troas  im  Mai  1881, 


pp.  29 


aoff. 


ill'  I ' 


V  1 1 


364     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND   THE 

their  native  population  was  living  in  other  parts  of  the 
empire.*^  Still  more  striking  is  the  fact  shown  by  the 
English  census  of  188 1,  that  there  were  living  in  England 
and  Wales  (outside  of  the  metropolis)  just  about  half  as 
many  persons  native  to  London  as  England  and  Wales 
had  supplied  to  that  city.*" 

Thus  we  have  here  a  case  similar  to  that  occurring  so  fre- 
quently in  nature;  on  the  same  terrain  where  a  more 
highly  organized  plant  or  animal  has  no  longer  room 
for  subsistence,  others  less  exacting  in  their  demands  take 
up  their  position  and  flourish.  The  coming  of  the  new 
is  in  fact  not  infrequently  the  cause  of  the  disappearance 
of  those  already  there  and  of  their  withdrawal  to  more 
favourable  surroundings. 

This  process  need  not,  however,  in  the  world  of  human 
society  necessarily  be  a  process  of  displacement,  a  con- 
sequence of  the  imperfect  equipment  of  the  native  ele- 
ments and  of  the  superiority  of  the  foreign  ones. 

The  reverse  will  perhaps  occur  quite  as  frequently,  and 
in  the  examples  cited  is  probably  the  rule.  On  account 
of  the  endless  differentiation  of  labour  in  modern  national 

"Comp.  von  Mayr,  Statistik  u.  GeseUschaftslekre,  II,  pp.  122  flF. 

"London  had  in  i88i,  3,816,483  inhabitants.    Of  these  there  were 

born: 

D.—™..  P«'  cent,  of  the 

Penou.  Population. 

In  London 2,401,955  62.9 

In  the  immediate  neighbourhood..      384,871  lai 

Elsewhere  in  England  and  Wales . .      787,699  ao.6 

In  Scotland 49-554  1.3 

In  Ireland 80,778  3.1 

In  other  countries 111,626  a.9 

On  the  other  hand,  584,700  natives  of  London  were  counted  in  other 
parts  of  England  and  Wales.  For  every  100  persons  from  these  terri- 
tories who  had  settled  in  London,  51  natives  of  London  had  left  the 
metropolis. — According  to  the  Ztschr.  des  preuss.  statist.  Bureaus, 
XXVI  (j886),  Statist.  Correspondens,  p,  xviii. 


\- 


GROIVTH  OF  TOfVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.      3^5 

economy  it  is  the  skilled  labourers  who  experience  most 
trouble  in  finding  suitable  employment  and  compensation 
for  their  labour  where  they  live  and  have  received  their 
training,  because  it  is  there  that  the  competition  is  keen- 
est. They  emigrate  and  seek  more  favourable  surround- 
ings, better  conditions  of  competition,  while  at  these 
points  less  highly  qualified  labour  may  at  the  same  time 
be  in  demand,  which  demand  must  be  met  by  importation 
of  labour  from  outside  places.  This  less  skilled  labour 
may,  on  the  other  hand,  however,  form  the  stronger,  bet- 
ter equipped  element  in  its  own  locality;  and  though  it 
may  lack  here  the  opportunity  for  a  profitable  utilization 
of  its  skill,  its  departure  may,  nevertheless,  leave  a  void 
that  it  is  impossible  to  fill. 

Thus  the  emigration  of  more  highly  trained  technical 
labour  from  the  cities  was  perhaps  never  greater  than  in 
the  period  of  the  so-called  industrial  boom  of  the  seventies. 
At  the  same  time,  however,  those  same  cities  received  an 
immense  influx  of  labouring  population  from  the  country; 
and  the  departure  of  the  latter  again  caused  in  the  dis- 
tricts of  great  landed  estates  a  serious  dearth  of  agricul- 
tural labourers,  an  advance  in  wages,  and  in  some  places 
a  lamentable  condition  of  agriculture.  Here,  in  every  case, 
it  was  the  relatively  stronger  that  had  emigrated,  the  rela- 
tively weaker  that  had  remained;  there  could  be  no  ques- 
tion at  all  of  mutual  displacement. 

Still  less  is  there  ground  for  such  a  view  with  regard  to 
those  internal  migrations  that  have  their  origin  not  in 
the  effort  to  find  a  better  place  for  carrying  on  work,  but 
in  the  search  for  more  favourable  conditions  of  living.  The 
pensioned  civil  servant  or  military  man  who  leaves  the 
expensive  metropolitan  city  for  the  country  or  a  cheaper 
rural  town;  the  speculator  who  has  become  suddenly  rich 
and  exchanged  his  fluctuating  stocks  for  a  solid  country 


i  H 


\'  t 


4 ) 


366     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND   THE 

estate;  the  Parisian  shopkeeper  who  enjoys  his  more  la- 
boriously earned  income  in  the  quietude  of  his  modest 
country  cottage;  and  also,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Jewish 
cattle-dealer  who  has  become  wealthy  and  seeks  the  city 
in  order  to  speculate  on  the  exchange;  Fritz  Reuter's  ex- 
cellently portrayed  Mechlenburg  "  Fctthammcl "  or  rich 
farmer,  who  after  disposing  of  his  farm  will  enjoy  the 
pleasures  of  city  life;  the  poor  clergyman's  widow  who 
moves  into  the  city  in  order  to  give  her  children  a  better 
education  and  supplement  her  scant  pension  by  keeping 
boarders; — none  of  these  in  their  new  places  of  residence 
enters  into  dangerous  competition  with  the  native  labour- 
ing population. 

And  yet  at  the  objective  points  of  the  migration,  even 
where  the  danger  of  displacement  cannot  enter  into  the 
question,  there  are  innumerable  struggles  and  endless  fric- 
tion, all  originating  in  the  process  of  social  amalgamation 
which  is  here  always  going  on  between  the  native  popu- 
lation and  the  new-comers.  The  stranger  has  to  adapt 
himself  to  his  environment,  to  the  peculiar  local  economic 
methods,  to  customs,  speech  and  the  political,  religious 
and  social  institutions  of  his  new  abode.  And  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  latter  place  again,  however  settled  in  char- 
acter and  peculiar  in  type  cannot  altogether  escape 
the  influences  that  rush  in  upon  them  from  without. 
Though  these  influences  often  mean  for  them  an  increase 
of  working  energy,  an  expansion  of  the  horizon,  a  breeze 
bringing  freshness  into  corrupt  local  conditions,  yet  per- 
haps much  more  frequently  they  result  in  a  loss  of  good 
old  customs,  of  solid  business  qjalities,  of  interest  in  the 
common  weal,  and,  above  all,  of  social  characteristics. 

Now  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  these  struggles  for 
mutual  adaptation  will  take  a  vastly  different  form  and 
course  when  waged  between  similar  and  between  diver- 


GROIVTH  OF   TOIVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.       367 

gent  elements.  For  this  verj'  reason  the  division  used  in 
municipal  statistics  for  marking  the  distinction  between 
native  and  resident  population  does  not  suffice  for  more 
exact  socio-statistical  investigations. 

For  if,  for  example,  it  has  been  ascertained  that  the 
native-born  inhabitants  of  the  city  of  Munich  in  1890 
amounted  to  36  per  cent,  of  the  whole,  while  in  Hamburg 
they  consiituted  47.5  per  cent.,  the  mere  fact  that  in  the 
former  city  there  are  11.5  per  cent,  more  citizens  of  extra- 
mural birth  is  far  from  proving  that  the  population  of 
Munich  is  to  this  extent  more  heterogeneous  than  that  of 
Hamburg,  and  that  in  the  former  the  process  of  mutual 
social  adaptation  is  attended  with  more  violent  friction 
and  struggles  than  in  the  latter.  In  like  manner  the 
fact  that  two  cities — for  example,  Dresden  and  Frankfurt- 
on-Main — show  the  same  proportion  of  non-native  to  na- 
tive-born citizens  does  not  mean  that  this  process  takes 
the  same  course  in  both.  It  is  easy  to  conceive  that  the 
strangers  in  one  city  may  show  a  greater  homogeneity  of 
customs  and  speech,  economic  energy  and  social  habits 
amongst  themselves  and  with  the  native  population  on 
account  of  coming  from  a  neighbourhood  more  nearly 
akin,  while  in  the  other  city  heterogeneous  elements  from 
more  distant  localities  are  mingled  together. 

The  final  result  of  the  mutual  adaptation  of  non-native 
and  native  population  will  be  altogether  different  in  each 
of  these  cases.  While  in  the  former  individuals  and  groups 
of  persons  of  approximately  like  economic  equipment  and 
similar  social  character  enjoy  peacefully  together  the  ex- 
isting conditions  for  business,  in  the  latter  perhaps  the 
more  robust,  energetic,  easily  contented  race  will  vanquish 
the  decrepit,  weaker  and  more  pretentious  in  its  ancient 
home,  or  at  least  eject  it  from  the  most  favourable  fields 
of  industry.     Especially  is  it  true  that  a  lower  standard 


1  l( 


368     INTERN/tL   MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND   THE 

of  living  can  give  the  incomers  a  superiority  over  the  na- 
tive labour  in  the  competitive  struggle,  which  involves 
the  latter  in  the  most  deplorable  consequences.  The  im- 
migration of  the  Polish  labourers  into  the  provinces  on 
their  west,  of  the  Italians  into  Switzerland  and  south  Ger- 
many, and  of  the  Chinese  into  the  cities  of  the  North 
American  Union  are  well-known  examples  of  this. 

But  even  when  the  economic  and  social  assimilation 
takes  place  without  severe  struggles  there  may  persist  be- 
tween incomers  and  natives  differences  that  simply  can- 
not be  removed,  invading  and  disturbing  the  original 
homogeneity  of  the  population.  We  have  especially 
in  mind  differences  of  creed,  of  language  and  of  political 
allegiance.  The  two  largest  cities  of  Switzerland,  Geneva 
and  Basel,  both  of  which  we  are  accustomed  to  look  upon 
as  strongholds  of  Protestantism,  have  to-day,  in  conse- 
quence of  inKax  from  without,  a  population  which  over 
a  third  is  foreign.  In  Geneva  about  20  per  cent,  of  the 
population  have  a  mother  tongue  other  than  French. 
Finally,  since  1837  the  Roman  Catholics  have  increased  in 
Basel  from  15  up  to  30  per  cent,  of  the  population,  while 
in  Geneva  they  have  reached  42  per  cent.  Even  he  who 
has  no  detailed  knowledge  of  the  internal  history  of  these 
small  municipalities  will  be  obliged  to  admit  that  such 
differences  are  not  void  of  danger. 

If  these  considerations  show  that  by  no  means  the  ma- 
jority of  internal  migrations  find  their  objective  point  in 
the  cities,  they  at  the  s;ame  time  prove  that  the  trend 
towards  the  great  centres  of  population  can  in  itself  be 
looked  upon  as  having  an  extensive  social  and  economic 
importance.  It  produces  an  alteration  in  the  distribution 
of  population  throughout  the  State;  and  at  its  originating 
and  objective  points  it  gives  rise  to  difficulties  which  legis- 
lative and  executive  authority  have  hitherto  laboured. 


■*!! 


CROIVTH  OF  TOU^NS  CONSIDERED  HlSTORlC/iLLY.       369 

usually  with  but  very  moderate  success  to  overcome.  It 
transfers  large  numbers  of  persons  almost  directly  from  a 
sphere  of  life  where  barter  predominates  into  one  where 
money  and  credit  exchange  prevail,  thereby  affecting  the 
social  conditions  of  life  and  the  social  customs  of  the 
manual  labouring  classes  in  a  manner  to  fill  the  philan- 
thropist with  grave  anxiety. 

This  mighty  flow  of  the  country  population  into  the 
cities  and  the  universally  rapid  rise  of  the  latter  in  volume 
is  looked  upon  by  many  as  an  entirely  modern  phenom- 
enon. In  a  certain  sense  this  is  true.  The  eighteenth  cen- 
tury knew  nothing  of  it,  at  least  in  Germany.  The  famous 
founder  of  population  statistics,  J.  P.  Sussmilch,  did  not 
succeed  in  discovering  any  regular  law  governing  the 
movement  of  population  in  cities.  He  is  of  the  opinion 
that  they  rise  and  fall  in  size  according  to  the  will  of 
God.2°  J  jj  Q  yQj^  Justi  deems  it  hardly  possible  that  a 
city  should  increase  unless  special  privileges  be  granted 
to  the  incoming  settlers.**  This  is  in  accord  with  such 
population  statistics  as  we  have  been  able  to  collect  for 
individual  cities  from  the  second  half  of  the  seventeenth 
century  to  about  1820;"  these  show  retrogression  and 
growth  in  irregular  alternation.  In  France,  on  the  other 
hand,  the  modern  movement  seems  to  have  begun  about 
one  hundred  and  fifty  years  earlier;  and  men  already  spoke 

"  "  Thus  does  the  mighty  ruler  of  the  universe  impart  to  states  and 
cities  m  ght,  riches,  and  glory.  He  takes  from  them  again  and  gives 
to  others  according  to  his  good  will.  He  pulleth  down  the  mighty 
from  their  seat  and  exalteth  them  of  low  degree."— Co«/«cAe  Ordnung, 
II,  §  546  (2d  ed.,  pp.  477.  478). 

"  Grunds'dtst  d.  Polieeiwiss.,  1 54.  Comp.  also  Gesammelle  polit.  u. 
Finansschriftcn,  III,  pp.  449^- 

'"  Much  material  relating  to  the  subject  has  been  collected  by  Inama- 
Sternegg  in  the  Handwort.  d.  Staatsw.,  II,  pp.  433  ff. 


370     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND   THE 


IP 


in  the  eighteenth  century,  according  to  familiar  phrase- 
ology, of  the  "  depopulation  of  the  open  country."  " 

If  on  the  other  hand  we  go  farther  back  into  the  history 
of  man  in  Europe  we  find  two  periods  showing  the  same 
phenomenon  on  a  grand  scale:  ancient  times,  especially 
the  era  of  the  Roman  Empire;  the  later  Middle  Ages,  in 
particular,  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries.  Between 
them  lie  great  epochs  of  quiescence,  if  not  of  retrogression 
ar  d  decay. 

How  are  these  earlier  periods  of  migration  tc  he  cities 
to  be  regarded  from  the  standpoint  of  the  history  of  their 
evolution?  Are  they  premature  starts  toward  a  goal 
whose  attainment  was  reserved  for  our  own  time  and  its 
perfected  means  of  communication?  Or  are  they  the  out- 
flow of  other  impulses  than  those  behind  the  correspond- 
ing movement  of  the  present,  and  did  they  on  that  ac- 
count also  lead  to  other  results?  Above  all,  was  their 
influence  upon  population  and  their  economic  character 
the  same? 

As  concerns  ancient  times  it  would  seem  as  if  we  must 
assume,  in  spite  of  the  uncertainty  of  the  population  record 
handed  down  to  us,  that  a  consequence  of  the  inHux  of  the 
rural  population  was  the  inordinate  growth  of  the  cities.'* 
But  it  must  not  be  overlooked  that  only  a  part  of  that 
population  migrated  of  its  own  free  will,  namely,  the  free- 
men. The  remaining  and  much  larger  portion,  the  slaves, 
were  collected  by  their  masters  in  the  cities,  or  brought 
thither  by  the  slave  trade. 

"  Evidence  collected  by  LeRoyt,  Du  progrh  des  agglonUralions  ur- 
baines  et  r^migration  rurale  (Marseilles,  1870),  pp.  8  flf, 

"  On  what  here  follows  compare  particularly  R.  Polilmann.  Die 
Veberviilkerung  d.  antiken  Grossstiidte  im  Zusammt'iange  mil  d.  Gesamt- 
entwick.  stddlischer  Civilisation  (Leipzig,  1884);  also  Roscher,  System 
d.  Volksw.,  III.  Introduction,  and  Biicher,  Die  Aufstdnde  d.  unfrei.  Ar- 
beiter  143-1^9  ''•  Chr. 


GROIVTH  OF  TOIVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.      371 


Where  freemen  moved  in  from  the  country  they 
usually  came  not  because  a  better  prospect  of  economic 
advance  in  the  cities  beckoned  them,  but  because  they 
were  deprived  of  their  lands  through  the  growth  of  the 
great  slave  estates.  In  the  cities,  it  is  true,  they  found 
all  the  lucrative  branches  of  tr^  '.e  in  the  hands  of  slaves 
and  freedmen ;  but  they  were  here  in  less  danger  of  starva- 
tion, inasmuch  as  the  proletarian  masses  of  the  cities  in 
whose  midst  they  settled  were  supported  by  public  and 
private  largesses. 

The  large  cities  of  antiquity  are  essentially  communities 
for  consumption.  They  owe  their  size  to  the  political  cen- 
tralization which  collected  the  surplus  products  of  the  ex- 
tensive areas  cultivated  by  individual  husbandry  at  one 
point  where  the  governing  class  was  domiciled.  They  are 
imperial,  or  at  least  provincial,  capitals.  Accordingly  they 
first  arise  in  the  time  of  the  successors  of  Alexander 
and  reach  their  height  under  the  Roman  Empire.  The 
capital,  Rome,  itself  depends  for  its  food-supply  upon  the 
taxes  in  kind  from  the  provinces;  and  the  same  is  later  on 
true  of  Constantinople.^"  It  is  a  communistic  and  im- 
perialistic system  of  provisioning,  such  as  the  world  has 
not  seen  a  second  time.  The  extortions  of  the  ofiicials, 
the  farming  of  the  revenues,  the  usurious  practices,  the 
great  estates  of  wealthy  individuals  worked  by  slaves,  the 
state-recognised  obligation  to  supply  largesses  of  bread, 
meat  and  wino  to  the  masses — all  these  placed  the  pro- 
ductive labour  of  half  a  world  at  the  service  of  the  capital 
city  and  left  open  to  the  private  activity  of  its  inhabitants 


"  Krakauer,  Das  I'erffiegungstvesen  d.  Stndt  Rom  i»  d.  sfiiter.  Kaiser- 
stit  (Leipzig,  18-4).  and  E.  Gebhardt,  Studicn  iiber d.  I'ert^HcRungs- 
wcsen  von  Rom  u.  Konstantinopel  in  d.  spdter.  Kaiserseit  (Dorpit,  i88i). 
Also  Rodbertus,  Zur  Gesch  d.  nm.  Trtbutsteucrn  in  the  Jhrb.  f.  N.-Oek. 
Oek.  u.  SUt..  VIII,  especially  pp.  400  fT. 


!N' 


372      INTERNytL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND  THE 

nothing  but  the  sphere  of  personal  services.  From  what 
we  know  of  the  larger  provincial  cities  we  may  conclude 
that  in  them  similar  conditions  prevail.''® 

A  favourable  market  for  free  labour,  a  place  for  the 
skilled  production  of  goods  on  a  large  scale  for  export, 
the  ancient  metropolitan  city  was  not."    Anything  resem- 
bling factory  work  rests,  as  does  the  extensive  agricultural 
production,  upon  slave  labour.    Accordingly  among  the 
motives  mentioned  by  the  ancient  writers  as  impelling  the 
free  rural  population  toward  the  cities  the  very  one  that 
is  commonest  to-day— the  prospect  of  higher  wages- 
plays  no  part.     "  Consider  this  body  of  people,"  writes 
Seneca"  to  his  mother;    "the  houses  of  the  immense 
city  are  scarcely  sufficient  for  them.   From  municipia  and 
colonies,  in  short  from  the  world  over,  have  they  come 
together.     Some  have  been  drawn  hither  by  ambition, 
some  have  come  on  public  business,  others  as  envoys, 
others  again  have  been  attracted  by  luxurious  tastes  seek- 
ing an  apt  and  ample  field  for  indulgence,  others  by  fond- 
ness for  liberal  studies,  others  by  the  shows;  some  have 
been  led  by  friendship,  others  by  enterprise,  which  here 
finds   extended   fields  for   displaying  personal   merit;" 
some  have  brought  their  personal  beauty  for  sale,  others 
their  eloquence.    There  is  no  class  of  people  which  has 
not  streamed  to  the  city,  where  the  prizes  are  great  for 
virtue  and  vice  alike." 

"E.  Kuhn.  Die  siddtische  u.  biirgcrliche  Verfassung  d.  Rom.  Reichs, 
I.  pp.  46  (T..  points  lo  an  organization  of  the  cura  annona  similar  to  that 
in  the  capital. 

"  Frat.cotti-,  i: Industrie  dans  la  Crice  ancicnne,  I,  esp.  pp.  14Q-IS8. 
has  now  established  this  fur  the  Greek  cities. 

"•  Ad  Hchiam.  6.  ... 

"Quosdam  industria  lalam  ostendcndce  virtuli  ttacta  matenam.  It  is 
competition  that  is  meant,  not  "  industry."  as  Pohlmann,  cited  above, 
p.  17,  translates  it. 


CROIVTH  OF  TOH^NS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.      373 

Quite  different  was  it  with  the  town-ward  flow  of  popu- 
lation in  the  Middle  Ages.  Taken  as  a  whole,  it  is  per- 
haps not  less  voluminous  than  that  at  the  time  of  the 
Roman  Empire.  It  did  not  result,  however,  in  the  forma- 
tion of  a  few  central  points  of  consumption,  but  in  the  con- 
struction of  a  large  number  of  fortified  places  distributed 
pretty  evenly  throughout  the  country,  uniting  within 
their  walls  all  the  organized  industrial  activity  of  the  na- 
tion which  was  not  attached  to  the  soil.  The  mediaeval 
towns  are  originally  mere  places  of  refuge  for  the  sur- 
rounding rural  population;^*'  their  permanent  inhabi- 
tants are  the  burghers,  or  people  of  the  burg.  Everything 
else — the  market,  the  prosecution  of  trade,  monetary 
dealings,  the  personal  freedom  of  the  town  inhabitants 
and  their  special  privileges  before  the  law — is  only  a  later 
consequence  of  this  extra-mural  military  relationship.  The 
defensive  union  became  in  course  of  time  a  territorially 
circumscribed  economic  union,  for  which  the  town  or  city 
was  the  trade  centre  and  the  seat  of  all  specialized  labour. 

The  mediaeval  cities'*  accordingly  bear  a  great  simi- 
larity to  each  other  in  the  social  and  economic  organiza- 
tion of  their  population,  and  differ,  as  far  as  we  can  see, 
only  slightly  in  the  number  of  their  inhabitants.  At  their 
original  founding  the  influx  of  the  rural  population 
seems  often  to  have  been  far  from  voluntary.  Later  on 
the  chief  factor  determining  their  growth  was  the  greater 
security  of  person  and  property  and  the  more  varied  op- 
portunities for  earning  a  livelihood  which  they  afforded 


"  Comp.  above,  pp.  1 16  flf. 

"  That  is,  so  far  as  they  really  deserve  the  name.  It  is  a  peculiar  in- 
consistency to  attempt  to-day  to  demonstrate  the  character  of  the 
mediaeval  city  by  taking  as  examples  places  which  never  arrived  at  a 
true  city  status  and  which  can  bring  forward  no  better  claim  to  the 
name  of  city  than  that  they  were  endowed  with  city  privileges. 


■  I 


374     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND  THE 

landless  freemen  and  serfs.     Their  whole  development, 
economically  and  numerically,  came  t    -n  ^nd,  however, 
the  moment  all  the  handicrafts  that  the  limited  extent  of 
the  city-market  areas  was  capable  of  sustaining  were  rep- 
resented and  supplied  with  a  sufficient  number  of  master- 
workmen.    Up  to  this  point  the  cities  oflfered  complete 
freedom  of  movement  and  almost  unimpeded  access  to 
guild  privileges  and  burgess  rights,  while  the  rural  land- 
owners, on  the  other  hand,  sought  through  limitations  of 
the  right  of  removal  to  secure  themselves  against  the  loss 
of  their  serfs.  When,  however,  the  cities  were  able  to  sup- 
ply all  branches  of  trade  from  the  internal  growth  of  their 
population,  they  also  exhibited  a  willingness  to  check  ac- 
cessions from  without,  and  hence  brought  about  those 
numerous  obstacles  to  settlement  and  to  entry  upon  a 
trade  which  have  persisted  into  modern  times.  There  arose 
a  sharp  division  between  city  and  country.    Migration  to 
and  fro  naturally  continued  to  a  certain  extent,  but  it  was 
confined  in  the  main  to  an  exchange  of  labourers  among 
the  cities  themselves.    City  development  had  fallen,  as  it 
were,  into  a  condition  of  numbness  from  which  it  could  be 
roused  only  through  transition  to  a  new  economic  order. 

We  are  in  a  position  to  prove  statistically  for  a  few 
locaIit=-«  Hie  statement  just  made.  There  have  been  in- 
stitii  :haustive  investigations  into  the  origin  of  the 

medi.-eval  population  of  Frankfurt-on-Main,^^  a^j  fg. 
cently  also  regarding  certain  sections  of  the  population 
of  Cologne."  From  these  it  appears  that  the  majority 
of  the  persons  received  by  these  two  cities  as  burghers 

«  Biichcr,  Beiolkcrung  von  Fr..  pp.  163  flf.,  304  flF.,  4"  ff-.  S2>  A-  SQi  ff  . 

627  fi. 
"A.  Dorcn,  Unlcrstichwigen  :.  Cesch.  d.  Kaufmannsguden  d  Mttlciiltcts 

(in  Schmoller's  Forschungen,  XII.  2),  Appendix  1;  and  now  aho  H. 

Bunfecr's  Beitriige  s.  mittelalt.  Topograph.,  Rechtsgeschich.  u.  Sozialstatishk. 

d.  Stadi  Koln  (Leipzig,  1896),  Sec.  3. 


GROIVTH  OF  TOIVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.      375 

during  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  migrated 
from  the  country.  Of  every  loo  new  burghers  there 
came  to: 

In  the  Period.  From  Cities.        ''™'",S»i"  ""* 

Cologne 1356- 1479  37-4  62.6 

Frankfurt    1311-1400  28.2  71.8 

"  1401-1500  43.9  56.1 

We  see  from  this  that  in  the  last  two  centuries  of  the 
Middle  Ages  the  movement  of  population  from  the  coun- 
try to  the  cities,  though  it  continued,  was  on  the  wane, 
while  the  admixture  of  town  elements  among  the  new 
burghers  increased.  Thus  as  early  as  the  fifteenth  century 
certain  strata  of  the  population  of  Frankfurt  received  their 
chief  increment  through  emigration  from  other  cities.  Of 
the  incoming  Jews,  for  example,  90  per  cent.,  and  of  the 
members  of  a  fraternity  of  journeymen  metal-workers  79.3 
per  cent.,  came  from  cities.  The  material  from  which  the 
last  percentage  is  deduced  also  covers,  it  should  be  said, 
the  first  quarter  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

Unfortunately,  further  figures  regarding  the  sixteenth 
and  seventeenth  centuries  are  not  available.  But  for  the 
period  from  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  till  after  the 
middle  of  the  nineteenth  century  we  can  offer  some  fig- 
ures which  serve  to  show  that  thee  was  an  epoch  when 
the  urban  handicrafts  received  their  workers  almost  ex- 
clusively from  other  towns.  The  Frankfurt  municipal 
archives  contain  a  number  of  books  regarding  the  lodg- 
ing-places of  the  bookbinders,  in  which  are  recorded  the 
names  and  places  of  origin  ot  all  the  journeymen  of  this 
craft  who  came  to  Frankfurt  between  1712  and  1867 
(14,342  persons  in  all).  Some  years  ago  we  worked  over 
this  extremely  valuable  statistical  material  and  found  that 
of  every  100  incoming  journeymen  bookbinders  there 
came: 


'' 


« Ijif  \ 


i    4*!- 


376     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND  THE 

Periods.  From  Cities.  ^™"h^i|S!  "^ 

1712-1750 97.5  2.5 

1751-1800 94-3         5-7 

1801-1835 89.2        10.8 

1836-1850 36.0        14.0 

1851-1867 81.3        18.8 

We  see  here  how,  in  a  trade  of  a  specifically  urban  char- 
acter, within  a  period  of  rather  more  than  a  century  and 
a  half,  the  proportion  of  workers  drawn  from  the  country 
has  continuously  increased.  Had  it  been  possible  to  con- 
tinue the  investigation  for  the  period  from  1867  down  to 
the  present  time,  we  should  undoubtedly  have  found  that 
the  balance  h^s  inclined  more  and  more  in  favour  of  the 
journeymen  from  rural  localities. 

In  the  contemporary  migrations  to  the  cities  a  fusion 
of  town  and  country  strongly  resembling  that  established 
by  us  for  the  fifteenth  century  seems  to  have  set  in.'* 
Of  every  100  of  the  inhabitants  born  in  other  places  there 
were  in: 

Year.  Of  City  Birth.        Of  Country  Birth. 

Leipzig   188s  50.6  49.4 

Basel 1888  23.5  76.S 

As  in  the  Middle  Ages,  the  city  element  relatively  in- 
creas*  s  ^nd  the  country  element  decreases  according  to 
the  distance  of  place  of  birth  from  place  of  settlement.  The 
various  classes  of  the  population  show  but  slight  differ- 
ences in  this  regard.  Generally  speaking  those  occupa- 
tions that  demand  a  special  training  have  a  stronger  ad- 

"  Only  the  simplest  results  of  these  investigations  can  be  given  here. 
Details  may  be  found  in  my  Beviilkerung  d.  Kantons  Basel-Stadt  am  i, 
Dez.  1888,  pp.  62  flF.  We  may  also  refer  to  Hasse's  Ergebnisse  d. 
Volkssdhlmg  vom  1.  Dez.  1885  in  der  Stadt  Leipsig,  Pt.  II,  pp.  7(T.  The 
higher  figures  in  the  rural  accessions  for  Basel  are  explained  by  the 
fact  that  in  the  above  work  the  city  limits  are  made  to  include  only 
3,000  inhabitants. 


CROl^TH  OF  TOMANS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.       377 

mixture  o'  city  elements  than  the  spheres  of  simple  manual 

labour. 

It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that  similar  statistical  in- 
vestigations have  not  been  carried  out  for  a  larger  number 
of  modern  cities.  From  the  evidence  at  present  to  hand 
we  are  apparently  driven  to  conclude  that  the  number 
of  incomers  of  city  origin  is  relatively  greater  in  the  large 
cities  than  in  the  medium-sized  and  smaller  ones.^'  The 
explanation  of  this  phenomenon  is  a  simple  one.  A  large 
city  exercises  upon  the  population  of  the  smaller  cities  the 
same  power  of  attraction  that  the  latter  have  for  the  pop- 
ulation of  the  country.  In  this  way  the  transitions  from 
one  social  and  economic  sphere  to  another  are  rendered 
less  violent.  ThUs  a  gradual  elevation  of  the  migrating 
masses  takes  place,  as  also  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion a  continuous  preparation  for  the  demands  of  life  in  a 
great  city,  which  must  render  less  violent  the  conflicts 
inevitable  to  the  process  of  mutual  adaptation  within  the 

new  sphere. 

But  if  the  cities  of  to-day  exhibit  a  process  of  redis- 
tribution of  population  similar  to  that  of  their  mediaeval 
prototypes,  the  resemblance  is  only  superficial.  In  the 
fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries  we  have  to  do  with  the 
last  stages  of  an  evolution  whose  ultimate  result  was  the 
formation  of  numerous  small  autonomous  spheres  of 
economic  activity,  each  of  which  exactly  resembled  the 
other  in  its  harmonious  development  of  production;  in 
the  nineteenth  rentury  we  have  to  deal  with  an  increas- 
ing differentiation  of  the  individual  centres  of  population, 

•*  Besides  the  work  on  Leipsig  already  mentioned,  a  later  exhaustive 
treatise  on  the  accessions  to,  and  losses  of,  population  in  Frankfurt-on- 
Main  in  the  year  1891,  published  by  Dr.  Bleicher  in  the  Beitr.  2. 
Stalislik  d.  SI.  Frkf.,  II,  pp.  29  ff.,  gives  interesting  information  re- 
garding this  point. 


378     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND   THE 


in  accord  with  the  designs  of  a  greater  whole,  namely,  of 
a  state-regulated  national  economy. 

This  process  begins  with  the  development  of  the  mod- 
ern State  and  modern  national  administration.  Hitherto 
each  city  had  developed  within  itself  all  the  branches 
of  city  life  not  forbidden  by  local  conditions;  now  one 
city  bee*  mes  a  permanent  royal  residence,  others  be- 
come seats  of  district  and  provincial  administrations,  of 
prisons,  of  higher  educational  institutions  and  of  all  kinds 
of  special  branches  of  administration,  while  still  others 
become  garrison  cities,  border  fortresses,  fair-towns, 
watering-places,  junction-points  of  commercial  routes, 
etc.  They  take  over  definite  functions  for  the  whole  coun- 
try and  for  all  other  places,  though  these  functions  are 
not  always  specifically  urban.  The  cities  may  also  form 
alliances  with  rural  residence  centres.  This  process  has 
been  especially  prominent  since  the  fuller  development 
of  city  industry  on  a  large  scale  and  the  extraordi- 
nary increase  and  perfection  of  the  means  of  communica- 
tion. In  this  new  national  era  the  total  national  produc- 
tion endeavours  so  to  distribute  itself  over  the  territory 
controlled  by  it  that  each  of  its  branches  may  find  the 
location  best  suited  to  it.  Factory  and  house-industry 
districts  arise,  and  separate  valleys  and  whole  regions  take 
on  a  semi-urban  character.  Certain  cities  develop  special 
branches  of  industry  and  trade  reaching  out  far  beyond 
the  local,  and  often  even  the  national,  demand.  In  others, 
again,  all  industry  and  business  life  decline;  they  sink 
down  to  the  level  of  villages,  so  that  the  historical  rights 
of  burgess  that  still  attach  +0  their  name  appear  in  striking 
contrast  with  their  position  as  places  of  trade  and  with 
the  number  of  their  inhabitants.  The  distinctions  between 
city  and  country  are  blotted  out.  This  happens  in  the 
neighbourhood   of  rising  industrial   cities  through  the 


CROiyTH  OF  TOIVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.      379 

planting  of  factories  and  workmen's  dwellings  in  the  sub- 
urbs and  beyond;  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  declining 
"  rural  cities  "  through  the  approach  of  the  latter  to  the 
condition  of  surrounding  country  places,  and  through  the 
rise  of  populous  industrial  towns.  On  the  whole,  how- 
ever, the  number  of  centres  of  population  and  of  objective 
points  for  internal  migrations  is  to-day  relatively  much 
smaller  than  in  the  second  half  of  the  Middle  Ages.^® 

But  in  still  another  respect  does  the  redistribution  of 
population  resulting  from  the  internal  migrations  of  the 
present  time  differ  from  that  witnessed  by  our  ancestors 
from  the  tenth  to  the  fifteenth  centuries.  In  consequence 
of  the  greater  certainty  of  a  living  and  of  far-reaching 
measures  for  the  health  of  the  people  the  increase  in  pop- 
ulation is  to-day  more  rapid  than  in  mediaeval  times.     It 

•*  The  German  Empire  had  in  1890  a  total  of  2,285  "  cities."  Of 
these  there  were  26  with  more  than  100,000  inhabitants,  22  with  from 
50,000  to  100,000,  104  with  from  20,000  to  50.000,  and  169  with  between 
10,000  and  20,000.  Besides  these  there  were  56  villages  and  suburban 
municipalities  with  from  10,000  to  50,000  inhabitants,  11  of  them  with 
more  than  20,000. — In  Prussia  there  were  in  that  year  46  "  cities  "  with 
less  than  1,000  inhabitants,  14  of  these  being  in  the  Province  of  Posen, 
12  in  Silesia,  10  in  Hesse-Nassau.  3  in  Brandenburg,  2  each  in  West 
Prussia  and  Westphalia,  i  each  in  Saxony,  Hanover  and  the  Rhine- 
land  (Schleiden  with  515  inhabitants).  Alongside  these  dwarflike 
cities  there  were  37  rural  municipalities  with  more  than  10,000  inhabi- 
tants.— How  far  some  of  the  old  cities  have  declined  is  shown  by  the 
following  figures  for  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden.  There  the  census 
of  1885  gave  114  "  cities,"  only  63  of  these  having  a  population  of  over 
2,000,  and  9  with  over  10,000.  Of  the  remaining  51  "  cities  "  42  had  from 
1,000  to  2,000  inhabitants,  4  had  from  500  to  1,000,  and  5  below  500 
(among  these  last  being  Kleinlaufenburg  with  441,  Neufreistett  with 
427,  Blumenfeld  with  349,  Fiirstenberg  with  341,  Hauenstein  with  157). 
For  every  city  there  were  on  an  average  14  villages.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  were  altogether  129  municipalities  with  over  2,000  inhabi- 
tants, 66  of  these  being  "  villages."  Of  the  old  cities  only  55  are  thus 
cities  according  to  the  modern  idea,  and  of  the  villages  four  per  cent 
are  from  the  point  of  view  of  population  to  be  reckoned  in  with  the 
cities. 


38o     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND  THE 


is  safe  from  those  heavy  reverses  so  frequently  resulting 
in  those  ages  from  harvest  failure,  feuds  and  plague. 
On  that  account  the  modern  migrations  into  the  large 
cities  and  industrial  districts  in  many  cases  absorb  only 
a  surplus  population  that  would  not  find  sufficient  room 
for  earning  a  livelihood  in  the  places  of  its  origin. 
At  these  points  tney  retard  or  completely  check  the  con- 
gestion of  population;  while  on  the  other  hand  at  the 
points  of  agglomeration  no  economic  obstacles  bar  the 
way  to  a  continuous  and  rapid  increase. 

In  mediaeval  times,  on  the  contrary,  the  migratory  ac- 
cession of  population  was  distributed  among  a  multitude 
of  walled  places  scattered  at  fixed  intervals  over  the 
whole  country.  The  increase  in  many  cases  continued 
only  until  the  city  was  full.  When  once  it  had  as  many 
inhabitants  as  it  needed  to  man  its  walls  and  towers  and 
supply  all  the  branches  of  industry,  there  was  no  room  for 
more.  Extensions  of  the  city  limits  often  did  take  place 
in  mediaeval  times,  it  is  true;  they  are  the  result  of  the 
increasing  formation  and  subdivision  of  special  trades. 
But  the  Middle  Ages  developed  no  large  cities;  the 
mediaeval  economic  and  commercial  system  forbade  it. 
The  country  was  often  deprived  of  the  population  neces- 
sary for  the  cultivation  of  the  soil;  yet  even  with  such 
accessions  the  frequency  of  extensive  losses  kept  the  city 
populations  stationary. 

From  these  remarks  it  will  indeed  remain  uncertain 
whether  or  not  the  internal  migrations  that  accompanied 
the  development  of  the  industrial  life  of  the  mediaeval  town 
were  relatively  more  extensive  than  the  corresponding 
territorial  movements  and  shiftings  of  population  that 
result  to-day  from  the  more  national  character  of  settle- 
ments. On  the  other  hand,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  the 
attraction  of  the  great  cities  of  modern  times  for  the  pop- 


GROIVTH  OF  TOIVNS  CONSIDERED  HISTORIC/tLLY.      381 

ulation  of  the  smaller  towns  and  the  country  is  exerted 
over  greater  expanses  of  territory  than  the  mediaeval  towns 
held  within  the  circle  of  their  influence.  One  is  not  in  a 
position  to  say,  however,  that  the  recruiting  territory  for 
the  population  of  a  city  has  expanded  since  the  begin- 
ning of  modern  times  in  direct  ratio  to  the  number  of  its 
inhabitants.  On  the  contrary,  one  is  astonished  to  find 
what  a  slight  effect  the  perfecting  of  the  means  of  com- 
munication and  the  introduction  of  freedom  of  movement 
have  had  upon  the  extent  of  the  territory  covered  by  the 
regular  internal  migrations. 

A  few  figures  will  make  this  clear.  Of  f.wtvy  hundred 
new  settlers  coming  to  Frankfurt,  Oldenburg  and  Basel 
the  numbers  according  to  distances  are  as  f-^''    vs: 


City. 


Frankfurt . 
II 

Oldenburg. 
Basel 


Class  of  Population, 


New  citizens 

II  II 

Metal  workers 

Citizens  born  in  other 
places 

Citizens  born  in  other 
places 

Journeymen  craftsmen . . 

Factory  laborers 


Period. 

0-9 
Miles. 

9-45 
Allies. 

14th  century 

46.7 

39-3 

15th 

23.1 

52.7 

iSthandi6th 

centuries 

2.7 

45-0 

1880 

31.8 

42.1 

1888 

16.7 

50.2 

1888 

13.9 

40.0 

1888 

17.1 

59-6 

Miles. 


14.0 

24.  a 

52.3 

36.1 

33.1 
46.1 
23-3 


Of  the  three  recruiting  zones  distinguished  here  the 
outermost  at  present  contributes  more  to  the  total  popu- 
lation and  the  inner  less  than  in  mediaeval  times.  The 
reason  probably  is  that  to-day  the  population  in  the 
more  immediate  neighbourhood  of  a  city  takes  advantage 
of  the  city's  labour  market  without  settling  in  the  city 
itself,  whether  it  be  that  they  go  daily  to  their  places  of 
work  in  the  city  by  special  workmen's  trains  or  other  con- 
venient means  of  transportation,  or  that  the  great  indus- 
tries of  the  towns  erect  their  workshops  in  neighbouring 


382     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND   THE 

places.  The  recruiting  territory  for  journeymen  has 
rather  contracted  as  compared  with  mediaeval  times. 
With  this  is  linked  the  circumstance  that  at  present  three- 
fourths  of  this  class  of  workmen  are  drawn  from  the  coun- 
try, while  at  the  close  of  the  Middle  Ages  less  than  one- 
quarter  of  them  came  from  villages  and  hamlets.  Of  the 
Frankfurt  journeymen  metal-workers  in  the  fifteenth  and 
sixteenth  centuries  only  20.7  per  cent,  were  born  in  the 
country;  of  the  Basel  bakers  and  butchers  in  1888,  on  the 
contrary,  78.7  per  cent,  and  of  the  journeymen  of  other 
handicrafts  75.2  per  cent,  were  of  country  birth.  Even 
to-day  journeymen  craftsmen  still  migrate  in  much  larger 
numbers  and  to  greater  distances  than  the  typical  work- 
man class  of  the  present,  the  factory  hands.  Of  the 
factory  workingmen  in  Basel  in  1888,  25.8  per  cent,  were 
born  in  the  city  itself;  of  the  handicraft  journeymen,  only 
16.3  per  cent.  How  many  of  them  were  bom  and  still 
domiciled  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  the  statistics 
unfortunately  do  not  show.  But  all  modern  industrial 
development  tends  in  the  direction  of  producing  a  per- 
manent labouring  class,  which  through  the  custom  of 
early  marriage  is  already  much  less  mobile  than  the  jour- 
neymen of  the  early  handicrafts,  and  which  in  future  will 
doubtless  be  as  firmly  attached  to  the  factory  as  were  the 
servile  labourers  of  the  mediaeval  manor  to  the  glebe.^^ 
If  this  is  not  very  noticeable  at  present  it  is  because  the 
majority  of  large  industries  have  not  yet  attained  their 
growth,  and  because  it  is  net.  -ssary  Tor  them,  as  long  as 
they  extend  their  works,  to  meet  the  increased  demand 

"  The  construction  of  workingmen's  dwellings  by  the  great  man- 
ufacturing establishments,  whether  these  pass  over  into  the  possession 
of  the  labourers  or  arc  rented  to  them,  is  even  now  begetting  a  sort  of 
factory  bondage,  which  has  an  appalling  resemblance  to  the  old  bond- 
age to  the  soil.  Comp.  my  article  on  the  Belgian  social  legislation  in 
Braun's  Archiv.  f.  soz.  Gesetzg.  u.  Stat,  IV,  pp.  484,  485. 


GROIVTH  OF  TOfVN^  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.      383 

for  labourers  by  drawing  further  upon  the  surplus  popu- 
lation of  the  rural  districts. 

These  remarks  point  to  the  conclusion  that  we  are  not 
justified  in  attributing  a  growing  migratory  character  to 
society  as  a  result  of  the  closer  network  of  commercial 
routes  and  the  invention  of  perfected  means  of  communi- 
cation. Rather  should  we  say  that  at  present  we  are  in 
the  midst  of  a  transition  period  in  which  the  yet  un- 
completed transformation  of  the  town  and  territorial 
economic  structure  into  a  national  one  involves  a  con- 
tinuous displacement  of  the  boundaries  of  division  of 
labour  and  ^''.e  centres  of  the  various  branches  of  pro- 
duction, and  -.nsequently  displacements  of  the  labouring 
population. 

After  a  period  of  economic  and  social  ossification  ex- 
tending over  centuries,  in  which  all  sorts  of  limitations 
upon  migration  and  settlement  held  the  population  fast 
to  the  original  ancestral  seats,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
many  view  with  anxiety  the  great  movements  of  popu- 
lation which  to-day  extend  over  whole  territories.  It 
seems  almost  as  if  the  early  times  of  universal  migration 
were  returning.  But  in  this  they  forget  that  it  is  only  a 
part — the  rural  part — of  the  population  that  has  become 
more  migratory;  that  up  to  the  early  year:,  of  last 
century  a  great  number  of  these  were  bound  to  the  soil. 
The  merchant,  the  craftsman  and  the  scholar  are  to-day 
much  less  mobile  than,  for  instance,  in  the  time  of  the 
Reformation;  and  the  industrial  labourers  move  relatively 
less  often  and  to  shorter  distances  than  they  did  even  a 
century  ago.  Only  their  number  has  become  much  greater 
and  is  still  steadily  increasing.  This  growth  of  in- 
dustry displaces  a  part  of  the  rural  labouring  population 
from  their  usual  places  of  abode,  to  which  nothing  now 
holds  them  but  the  interests  of  those  who  profit  by  their 


IK. 


384     INTERNAL  MIGRATIONS  OF  POPULATION  AND  THE 

helplessness.  The  further  progress  of  this  movement  will 
probably  show,  even  in  a  few  decades,  that  the  human 
race  in  the  course  of  its  evolution  has  on  the  whole  be- 
come more  stationary. 

We  may  thus  say  in  conclusion:  In  this  general  influx 
to  the  cities  and  their  suburbs  we  are  to-day  undergoing 
what    our    ancestors     experienced    in    the     second    half 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  transition  to  a  new  economic 
and  social  order  and  a  fresh  distribution  of  population. 
At  that  time  the  movement  inaugurated  the  period  of 
town   economy   and   of   sharp   separation   of   town   and 
country;  the  movement  in  the  midst  of  which  we  now 
live  is  the  outward  sign  that  we  have  entered  upon  a  new 
period  of  development,— the  period  of  organic  distribu- 
tion  of  population,   the   period   of  national   division   of 
labour  and  of  national  satisfaction  of  wants,  in  which  the 
distinctions  between  city  and  country  as  places  of  abode 
are   being  obliterated  by   numerous  transitional   forma- 
tions.   This  fact  has  long  since  been  recognised  by  statis- 
ticians who  have  dropped  the  historico-juridical  concep- 
tion of  city  and  substituted  a  statistical  one  in  which 
places  are  distinguished  according  t  i  the  number  of  their 
inhabitants. 

Every  transitional  epoch  has  its  inconveniences  and  its 
suffering.  But  the  modern  movement  of  population,  in 
so  far  as  it  is  expressed  in  the  influx  into  the  cities,  will, 
like  that  of  mediaeval  times,  reach  its  goal  and  then  sub- 
side. This  goal  can  be  none  other  than  to  assign  to 
every  individual  capacity  and  to  every  local  group  of  per- 
sons that  place  and  that  role  in  the  great  national  life 
in  which  its  endowments  and  the  altered  technical  con- 
ditions of  economic  activity  best  fit  it  to  contribute  to 
the  general  welfare. 

Thus  from  a  consideration  of  internal  migrations,  de- 


GROH^TH  OF  TOl^NS  CONSIDERED  HISTORICALLY.      385 

spite  the  fact  that  the  conditions  accompanying  them 
are  often  far  from  pleasant  to  contemplate,  we  may  gain 
the  assurance  that  _they  too  mean,  from  the  wider  stand- 
point, an  advance  towards  higher  and  better  forms  of 
social  existence,  both  for  the  individual  and  for  the  race. 


mu 


INDEX. 


Aboriginal  man,  no  longer  exist- 
ing, 3 
Acta  diurna  populi   Roman!,  aio, 

220 

Acta  senatus,  219,  aio 
Adoption,  15 

Advertising  Bureaux,  240 
Aged,  exposure  of  the,  16 
Agriculture,  4S,  255;  savage  .igri- 

cuUuralists,  43 
V.  Ailzing,  236 
Andree,  23,  26,  28.  37,  67,  73,  77, 

266 
Andrews,  Alex.,  232,  234 
Animal  sortD'ogy,  2  note. 
Annuities,  133 
Appun,  18 
Art,  28,  29  note. 
Artel,  gs 
Artifiters,  98 
"  Artistic  Work,"  return  t  j,  208 

Bank,  evolution  of,  138 

BannrnfiU,  123 

de  Barthilemy,  233 

.Ussier,  34,  264 

Rastian.  24,  78 

Battenberg.  Frani  Joseph  von,  158 

Peati   fossidentts,    philosophy   of, 

34a 

Below,  126 

lleti,  79 

Ftunittn,  105 

Hey,  Fmin,  36 

Itiilcicn  Labour.     Str  Labour. 

Hlcirhcr,  377 

ni'ick,  283' 

Itlmn,  157 

noas,  28 

Backcl,  266 

Bos,  43 

Botcher,  botcher-hunt,  169 


Bottiger,  loi 

Baun  ,  158 

Btlcher,  works  cited,  19,  22,  a8,  53, 
87,  94,  96,  108,  130,  132,  154,  163, 
171,  207,  J54.  »56.  »63.  sW),  267, 
269,  273,  274.  298.  30'.  318.  334. 
370,  374.  376.  382 

Buchner,  24,  6$,  79,  93,  iii 

Buffalo  herds,  extermination  of,  18 

Buhl,  l6i 

Hunger,  374 

Burg,  116,  373 

Burgess  rights,  116  119,  374.  37^ 

Burgher,  116,  119,  13J,  373-375 

Burner,  181 

Hurton,  13,  21,  35.  263 

Musiness  Undertakers,  308 

Cxsar,  218,  219 

Camelots,  100 

CamfagHt,  352 

Capital,  112, 128,  129,  137,  143,  162, 

173.  >76.  309.  3«o.  333 

Capitalists,  308 

Cappeln,  361,  362 

Casalis,  38,  78,  277 

Casati,  72 

Caste  system,  343 

Cattle-raising,  11,  45,  51 

Cauwii,  250 

Cecchi,  69 

Census:  Bavarian,  358 (T.;  English, 
364;  Oldenburg,  359  ff.  Sft  Oc- 
cupations, census  of. 

Cicero,  loa,  219 

Circulation  of  goods,  ta8,  305 

Cities:  characteristic  of  modern, 
363;  in  German  Empire,  379 note; 
in  Middle  Ages,  380.   Set  Towns. 

Classes:  rise  of,  127;  vocational, 
334;  labeurlnf,  38a 

de  Clercq,  28 

S«7 


388 


INDEX. 


Colbert,  136.  M^ ;  Clbcrtism,  137 
Columella,  300 
Commerce,  303,  309 
Commercial  contrivances,  76,  145 
Commission   Work  (Syr.tcm),    154. 

171.  173.  O').  257 
Common-houses    of    savages,    37- 

.Vic  Houses. 
Common,  Labour  in.    See  Labour. 
Communities:  partial, 94;  labour, 95 
Community    for    I'rofiuction    and 

Consumption,  305,  3o<J.  3io.  372 
Comprar,  to  sit  down,  63 
Conceptions  of  value  of  primitive 

man 
Consumption,  29.  192 
Covetousness  of  the  savage 
<lc  Coulanges,  Fustel,  92 
Couriers,  77 
Cranz,  13 
Credit,   129,    137.    145;    Crc.lit-bal- 

ances,  207 
Crop-rotation,  47 

Currency, national,  131.  .SVf  Money. 
Custom-production,  170 
Customs  Duty,  80 

Dampicr,  13 

Defence,  arrangements  for,  14''> 
I).-m.ind,  conccniratinn  of,  192 
niensliiiiel,  33°  "o'c- 
Dipui'iK  stick,  7,  11 
Diinilruff,  345 

Division  of  Labour.     See  Labour; 
of  Troduction.     See  Production. 
Division  of  Use  'with  tools\  301 
Domestic   animals,   laming  of,  22, 

27 
Dorcn,  374 
Drum,  use  of,  7S 
Druzina,  95 
Dualism  in  household.  55 

F.conomic      tivity,  2 
F.conomic  nature  of  man,  I,  2,  3 
"  Kconomic  piinriplr,"  the,  I 
r.conomic  method,  14^;  stai;c-<,  R5. 

See  Stages. 
Economy,  25,  C).  3"'.  3');  m--^;I<M  led 

bv  cthnogr.iiilu  .   n 
"  Economy    '  1    IKvi.l'-l    I.;ibotir  " 

Fconomy.  n.Tii'  ■'  ;!,  "■  ■■  "   ,  3^  v    •'  '■■ 
Stages. 


Editorship,  240 

Education,  146 

Egoism  of  savage,  14,  21 

Ehrenreich,  9.  11.  16,  23,28,32,  51, 

61,  264 
Ellis,  loi 
Embassies,  77 
Endemann,  270,  277 
Enfeoffment,  132 
Engels,  4 

Entrepreneur,  172,  17S,  308,  312 
Erman,  no,  263,  321  , 

Exchange,    genesis  of,  to;   primi- 
tive,   59,  65.   9".   >c'6.    I"?.    •"/ 
system  of  direct,  114.  and  divi- 
sion of  labour,  295,  301 
Exner.  157,  158 
Extra-mural  jurisdiction,  124 


171;  districts,  37S;  hands, 
172, 


Factory 

3''2 
Factory  Work   (SystenO,   154 

173.  'i7f> 
Fair  Reports,  236 
Fomilia    tusti<a,    99;      urbatta,    99, 

300 
Family,   primitive,   10,  48,  t5'r.  of 

Negritos,  8  note;  Roman.  97 
Fiiuihaber,  231 
FebtfySy  38 
Fcliit,  329 
Felkin,  270 

Ferguson,  Adam,  2«3,  2S5,  326 
Finsch,  5.  47.  67.  if-.  79.  263.  269 
Fire,  use  of,  3.  '<•  26,  79 
Fire-cabin,  38 
Fishing,  49,  77 

Food,  separate  preparation  of.  32  - 
38;  procuring  of,  42,  4».    AuUse 
Stage  of  Individual  Search  for. 
Fof^li  dCiivvisi,  226 
Foresight,  lack  of  by  savage,  12,  Si 
Forester,  I57 
Forestry,  255 
Francotte,  160,  372 
"Freedom     of     luilerprisc,"     334; 

free  choice  of  vocation,  340 
Itil'ch,  9,  10.  II,  I'',  -o,  21,  ?.t.  ""^ 
3^'.  49 


Gallon,  329 


Gang.  27S 
Ganphofer,  337 
Garve,  322 


w 


INDEX. 


389 


Gazetta  (Gazette),  225;    C^z.itanti, 

327 
Gebhardt,  371 
Geiger,  4,  72 
Gerland,  277 
Gifts.     See  Presents. 
Gioja,  250 
Gorbunoff,  267 
Gramich,  122 
Grandke,  186 
Grasshoif,  222,  224 
Groos,  27 

Grosse,  7,  28,  30,  g2 
Guilds,  168,  171,  i32,  igo,  374 

Haberland,  62 
Hack  or  Hoe  System,  4*"'.  4S 
Hahii.  43,  45 

Handicraft  (!land-work),  121,  150, 
152,  168,  169,  171,  176.  1S2.  185. 
311;  displaceinent  of,  192;  sup- 
planting, curtailment,  incorpora- 
tion, impoverishment,  etc.,  of, 
197-207 
Handicraftsman     (Craftsman), 

modern,  151 
Hansa.  The.  138 
Hansjakob,  163 
Harar,  277 

Hardness  of  heart  of  snv.ige,  14 
Hasse,  376 

Hatin,  221,  226,  232,  234 
Haupt,  266 
f/ausjieisz,  155 
HeckcwL-lder,   17,    nj,    23.    33.    ''''■ 

264 
Heiiize.  2x3 
Helmolt.  2S5 
ileredity,  326.  335,  336 
Hermann,  131,  250 
Herodotus,  16 
Heusler,  t2g,  130 
Higher  primitive  peoples,  29,  31) 
Hildebrand,  86 
Historical  School,  84,  86 
Hofsihulie,   l?7 
Holle,  361,  302 
Holub,  80 
Homer,  62 

Home-work,  ifi3.  '''5.  'f>7.  ''^7 
llcirinutiii ,  2(17 
Hose,  CIi.uIps,  32,  269 
llospitaliiy,  lilies  of,  (i2 
Household,  nt(;lccted  by  cthnoK 
raphy,  39 


House  Industry  (see  Commission 
Work),  154.  i/i.  257.  2f'7 

Houses,  public  social,  36  note,  205 

Housework,  154.  I55;  i"  Buko- 
wina  153,  176 

Houssaye,  327 

Howitt,  63 

HUbner,  218 

Hudson,  234 

HUgel,  64 

Hume,  321 

"  Hunger-strap,"  il 

Hunting,  49 

Hwof,  67 

Imitating,  by  savages,  27 

Immermann,  157 

Improvidence  of  savage,  17 

Im  Thurm,  64 

Inama-Sternegg,  103,  369 

Income,  112  note,  113,  131,  143 

Individual  econc  my,  32 

Individual   Search  for  Food,  staj  c 

of,  26,  27,  30,  39 
Industrial   Organizaliun.    54,  3'=. 

peoples,  73 
Industry,   52.  57.  5*.  144.  i5f>-  255: 

systems  of,  154 
Infanticide,  14,  15 

Influx  to  the  titles.  357 

Insurance,  133 

Interest,  132 

Intermediaries,  nlfici.il.  124 

Iron    smelting,  22,   working.  159 

Itinerancy,  162,  lo-* 

Itinerant,  162.  i(.5-i69 

Iwantschofl.  158 

/?('(;;/:.;.  3O   note. 

Jacobsen,  79,  263 
James,  329 

Icllin,t;haus,  24 
jentsch,  255 

loest,  23 

Jones,  F.  F:UHiy,  232 

Jung,  21 

Junker,  19,  72.  '^lA 

V.  Justi,  369 

K-iufiriann.  1 17 
Klenim.  5 
Kleinw.ichter,  245 
Krakauer,  371 
krejcsi,  ir,S 


39° 


INDEX. 


Kubary.  34.  34.  38.  69. 107.  «65.  269 
Kuhn,  37a 

Labour.  142.  3'°:  aggregation.  2O2. 
368.   371-273:    bidden.   94.    2o3- 
273;  companionship.  262;  conca- 
tenation. 273;  in  common.  49. 93. 
352.  (extent)  259.  262.   280.  3«». 
322;   communities.   94.   95.   280; 
displacement    of.   390-394,   333; 
distribution  between   sexes.  30- 
37.  44.  S4.  353:  division  of.  (in- 
terlocal) 71.  93.  >44.  «7t.  350-353. 
284.  386,  (defined)  389.  295.  (so- 
cial)  112.  128,  295.  299.  (conse- 
quences  of)   302,  305.  310.  333. 
331.  332;  fraternal.  363.  318;  in- 
corporation  of.  311;    joint.  362, 
378;  social,  245;  subdivision  of, 
286,  394,  333;    union   (combina- 
tion) of,  344.  251.  253.  280,  317; 
with  a.iernate  and  with  concur- 
rent tfmfo,  274 

Lamprecht,  103.  105.  iii 

Land  in  autonomous  economy,  90 

Landlord,  landlady,  30 

Landor,  66,  365 

Latifundia.  98,  331 

Laveliye.  93.  105 

Laziness  of  savage,  30 

"  Least  sacrifice,  •  principle  of,  I 

Leber.  332 

Leclerc,  3i8 

Legoyt,  370 

Leni,  67.  73 

V.  Leoprechting,  366 

Liberalism,  modern,  139 

LieberkUbn.  3i8 

Lindau.  327 

Lippert.  4.  9.  ".  14.  «6.  18 
List,  86,  346,  347.  250 
Livingstone,  19.  24,  35.  3°.  37.  47. 

48.  5«.  7».  79 
Loaning.  61 
Loria.  330 
Lotmar.  333 
Lduvois,  14s 
'•  Lower  nomads,"  9,  36 
Lubbock.  3.  4.  «3.  '5.  '7   49 
Luther,  333,  343 

Machines.   I75.  29»;  small   power. 

209 
Mangold,  240 


MangolJt.  2i4 

Manor.  102  «.,  126,  137.  383 

Manufactory,  171 

M  -.rket-law.  120 

Markets.  59,  66.  115,  373 

Marquardt,  322 

Martius.    10.  15.  16,  47.  49.  5i.  67. 

78,  79 
Marx  Karl.  70 
Material     foresight    and   cultural 

progress.  12 
Maternal  love.  10.  15.  I7 
Maurer,  103 

V.  Mayr,  354.  355.  359.  360.  364 
Melancthon.  323.  324.  325 
Meinecke,  3v6 
Meitzen,  38o 

Mercantile  system,  136,  140 
Meyer,  63,  98 
Migration,     345;    economic      and 

social   results  of,    356     ff.,   377; 

goal  of  modern,  384;    kinds  of, 

349.    352.  353;    periods   of,    370, 

373  ,  . 

Migratory  character    of     society, 

383 
Moha,  95 
Mobility  of   society,  query  as  to. 

349 
Momnistn,  aiS 
Money,  67ff.,    ii'-.     13.   143-      ^" 

also  Currency. 
Montesquieu.  233 
Mciser.  186,  256 
Mundt-Lautf.  4 

Nachtigal,  5.  19.  35.  263,270 
National   economy   (see  Economy) 

era,  134.  378 
Nationality,  principle  of,  140 
Natural  peoples,  41,  43  note. 
Nepotism.  341 
News,  communication  of.  77".  P""" 

licatiun  of,  i39 
News-letters.  232,  233 
Newspaper,  3i6.  221 
Ni-^buhr.  344 
Nl    .ad  life,  16,  345,  ^^i> 
iVouvellauti,  217 
,\ouvtlUs  <\  lit  main,  233,  233 
A\uvtllist(s,  232,  233 

Occupations,  German   census    of. 
1        181.  260,  324 


I 


INDEX. 


39» 


OHin  husbandry,  97 

One  page  prints,  235 

Opel.  228,  231.  237 

Ordinari  ("ordinary  messen- 
gers), 222,  229;  Ord.  ZtitUHgtn, 
230 

Orth,  237 

Ottino,  222 


Paget,  158 

Panckow,  23,  42,  47 

Parkinson.  24.  33.  47.  69.  79.  93.  »9 

Pasz,  278 

Pattrfamilias,  97 

Paulitschke,  35.  270.  277 

Peschel,  3,  4.  5.  ".  »3.  ai 

Petri,  158 

Petronius,  98 

V.  Philippovich,  244,  289 

Physiocrats,  87,  I39 

Piece-work,  collective,  279 

Play,  27,  28 

Pliny,  lie 

Pogge,  10,  18,  24,  35,  47.  Ji.  «>5.  75. 
77,  80,  loi,  270 

Pogio,  91 

POhlmann,  370.  37» 

Polygamy,  55.  ^54 

Popma,  98,  99 

Population,  Hutive,  359 

Post,  15.  49.  79.  270.  aSo 

Postreuter,  236 

Pottery,  invention  of,  22 

Presents  (gifts),  61.  6a  note,  79.  81 

Price-work,  169 

Primitive  man,  12  ff.,  41  "  ;  Peo- 
ples, classification  of,  42 

Printing,  invention  of,  234 

Production,  196;  division   of.  280, 

294,  331,  33'  , 

Productive   powers,  harmony   ot, 

347 
Property,  immaterial,  131 
Pruti,  222,  227.  336,  237 
Public  administration,  76,  79,  140 


Quetelet,  351 
Quippus,  73 

Rambangs,  265 

Ratiel.  5.  U.  »5.  34.  47.  49.  51 

Rau,  2S0 

Raucbberg,  3^1 


Ready-made  goods,  19S 
Recruiting  territory  for  city,  381 
Rtlationes  semestraUs,  236 
Rent,  112;  purchases,  331 
Repair  trade,  198 
Reuter,  Fritr,  366 
Ricardo,  83 

Riedel,  269 

Riegl,  157 

Riehl,  327.  337.  341 

Rodbertus,  96,  148.  33«.  37i 

Rohlfs,  78 

Romstorfer,  158 

Roscher.  187.  245.  246.  37o 

Rosegger,  163 

Potu,  278 


Sachau,  64 

Sale-shop,  198 

Salomon,  Ludwig,  2i8 

Sapper.  37,  58 

Sarasin,  9 

Schadenberg,  4.  8.  24.  38.  269,  277 

Schaffle.  337.  338 

Scheurl,  230 

Schliemann,  363 

Schloss,  279 

Schmaler,  266 

Schmeller,  278 

Schmeltz,  28 

Schmidt.  A.,  218 

Schmoller,  87.  123.  136.  189.   289, 
303.  328,  329.  330.  336-338.  342 

Schiinberg,  I3« 

Schumann,  357  , 

Schur'i,  23.  3*^.  58.  66.  67.  75.  76, 
270 

Schwarzkopf.  234.  237 

Schweinfurth,  28.  37.  38,  47.  5J.  72. 

'9     ,   . 
Schweinitz,  263 

Schwicker,  158 

Seebohm,  280 

Semon,  23,  76.  263 

Seneca,  372 

Serfdom,  95.  167.  280,  305,  322 

Settegast,  272 

Sexes,  distribution  of    labour  De- 

tween,  30-37.  44.  54,  253 
Shortland,  63 
Sibree,  271 
Sick,  exposure  of,  by  savages,  16 

Sickel,  230 

Sidenbladh,  I57 

Slavery,  55.  95.  280,  305.  3«7 


I't 


39* 


INDEX. 


Smith.  Adam.  87,  139.  151.  245-248, 

282-290.  295-O,  303 
Smiths,  72 
Social  differentiation  {see  Labour, 

social).  290,  295,  329;  rank,  334 
Society,   organization   of.    7.    213, 

3^(>.  333 
Spedalhation,  287,  294,  305 

Spencer,  13,  20 

Spinning-rooms.  265-267 

Spoken  paper,  233 

Stage  of  Individual  Search  for 
Food  (see  Individual);  of  Inde- 
pendent Household  Economy. 
89.  114.  142.  313;  of  Town  Econ- 
omy, 89,  114.  126,  313.  384;  of 
National  Economy,  89,  134,  I37i 

141.313.383.  „  ,.     _ 

Stages,  not  universally  applicable, 

12 

Stanley.  34,  7Q,  '^3 

Staple,  law  of.  123 

Starcke.  38 

State,  absolutist.  138;  modern,  378. 

See  Economy,  National. 
Staudinger.  64 
Steam,  as  motive  power,  175 
V.  d.  Steinen.  9,  23.  28.  31.  32,  5'. 

61,  263 
Steinhausen.  222,  229 
Stellmacher,  267 
Stieda,  123,  130 
Stieve.  236 
Stock,  L.,  212 

Struggles  for  adaptation.  366  ff. 
Sundt,  IS7 
SUssmilch,  3(19 
Sweat-work,  197 
Swetjolka,  267 

Tacitus,  112,  220 
Tarajanz,  158.  165.  166 
Tax  on  land,  114;  on  general  prop- 
erty, 133 
Teale,  4 

".Team-work,"  279 
Technical  skill,  development  of.  28 
Technique.  53 
Telephonic  contrivances,  78 
Thaer.  272 
Throwing-stick,  7 
ThOnen, 88 
Tiebe,  9I 
Time,  use  of.  19 
Tindall,  81 


Town:  constitution  of,  126;  simi- 
larity of.  273;  supremacy  of,  133, 
373.     See  Cities. 

Trade,  59.  124.   125.   145,  206,  257, 

309.  331.  373 
Trades:  division  of.  287;  formation 

of.  290,  294 
Trading  peoples.  73 
Trade-mark.  76 
Transmission  of  knowledge  among 

savages.  22 
Transportation,  77 
Tree-dwelling,  4 
Tscheta,  93 
Turgot,  87 

Uniformity,     tendency     towards, 

194,  310 
Usury,  prohibition  of,  113 
Uten,  no 

Vadhmal,  109.  161 

Valentinelli.  226 

Valerius  Maximus,  342 

Value,  conceptions  of.  among  sav- 
ages, 21 

Verdinglichung,  91 

Vierkandt,  42 

Villenage.  91 

Vocations:  rise  of,  127;  free  choice 
of.  340 

Vocational  class.  334 

Waddewarden.  361.  362 

Wages.  132;  of  management,  132, 

167 
Wage-work,  154.  162,  i63,  176 
Wage-workers,  class  of,  332 
Wagner,  Adolf.  3 
Waitz,  5,  16,  33.  37.  45.  59.  77.  78, 

Si 
Wallon,  160 
v.  Waltershausen,  61 
Waterways,  77 
Wealth,  131,  143 
Weber,  96,  99 

Weekly  (newspaper).  236-238 
Weiske,  120 
Welsmann.  329 
W  Her.  235 
We'sers.  230 
Wiglitzsky,  158 
Winckler.  322,  233 


INDEX. 


393 


Wissmann,  lo,  i8,  35.  S^,  38.  47.  SL 

72.  74.  75.  77,  79.  80 

Witzlebcn,  231 

Wolf.  35  ,         ^.,.             . 

Work:    principle  of    stability   and 

coniinuiiy   of,  249;   subdivision 

of,  175.  3«7 


Wiilkcr,  221 
Wundl,  KJ 

Zadru^v!,  03.  105 

Zell,  218 
Zwingli  -23 


